


Viewing Pleasure

by WolfstarGarden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Art, Belly Dancing, Dancing, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Kink, Modern Era, One Shot, Painting, Past Abuse, Remus Lupin Being an Asshole, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sexual Content, Sirius Black Being an Idiot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfstarGarden/pseuds/WolfstarGarden
Summary: “No one’s ever said I inspire them before.”Remus is a belly dancer and Sirius just has to know what that feels like.





	Viewing Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> This monster of a fic has killed my soul. I may never write again.
> 
> Nah! I've loved writing this one, but it did drive me mad. It's actually the longest one-shot I've written, so... The idea came to me when I was belly dancing (very badly) one night, and I suddenly had an "imagine Remus Lupin" moment, and then came the phrase "you're exquisite, you must let me paint you".
> 
> It was gonna be a shortish PWP ... and so naturally we have this plotly beast. Enjoy.

“By all the gods, James ... I don’t want to do this.”

“Nonsense,” James said brusquely, arm coiled around Sirius’ waist. “It’s only polite. Everyone came to see your exhibit so you should return the favour.”

“James, the only definite performer who visited me is Lily. Everybody else is more likely than not just a normal member of the public.”

James eyed the array of eclectic people wandering about. “I suppose to you artistic-types normal is a subjective term.”

Sirius grinned, bumping into him playfully. “Maybe. Well, let’s go find your lovely wife then.”

The park had been transformed into warren of paths filled with pop-up shops, bazaars, home merchants and performing artists of every kind. Sirius and James circled makeshift cafes and finally made it to the pavilion reserved for dancers.

It was a hive of activity, festival-goers thronging around the daises and milling between the exhibitor partitions. Sirius glanced around, startled by the crowd. “Where’s Lily?”

“This way,” James grabbed his hand, pulling Sirius along as they wove and dodged their way towards the area sectioned for ballroom dancing.

They staggered along the pavilion edges and then Sirius pointed. “There they are!” Lily and Gideon – her dancing partner – were impossible to miss, both crowned with a shock of red hair. James grinned and hauled Sirius forwards.

“Hey!” Gideon grinned when they reached them.

“James! Watch this guy, he’s amazing,” Lily said, kissing him quickly and turning back to the dais. James and Sirius fell into line with them.

“Check him out, Padfoot,” Gideon said, with a wink.

 _I should have stayed at the gallery_. Reluctantly, Sirius lifted his eyes to the dancer.

In mere moments he was caught.

Only metres in front of him was a scantily-clad man, amazingly lean. Perfectly in time with the music, he spun and swayed across the stage, body unwinding in sinuous twists and sharp, sudden jerks. Each move was seamless, captivating.

Sirius had never seen a belly dance like this before before. Transfixed, his eyes raked over the flowing silk trousers and tiny bolero – it did nothing to cover the man’s modesty and only accentuated each faultless wind of his body. He looked completely abandoned to the music, floppy curls falling vaguely across his young face.

Sirius’ breath snagged at the base of his throat. “Fucking hell,” he croaked, caught somewhere between inspired and aroused.

James glanced over at him, mouth curling into a sassy smile. “Like what you see, Pads?”

Sirius would have scowled, but he didn’t dare look away; he wasn’t going to miss a single languorous circle. There was no way such an intricate dance could be as effortless as the performer made it look.

He was a revelation.

Lily and Gideon seemed similarly impressed.

“Bloody hell, look at him,” Gideon said, sounding amazed. “I’ve never seen someone move like that.”

“He’s got phenomenal control,” Lily agreed. “The isolations...”

Sirius wasn’t listening; the others’ voices faded into the white noise of the busy pavilion. He was being dragged in by the tide of unfurling muscles, the oceanic crash of a hip drop. He was drowning.  An overwhelming creative need filled him – and a surge of desire. He wanted to lick a stripe up the man’s belly.

“Stop drooling Padfoot,” James said around a laugh. “You’re embarrassing yourself. What if he sees you?”

Sirius kept ignoring him, but his face creased with disappointment when the routine ended. The man gave a small smile and bowed. “Fucking hell,” Sirius mumbled, eyes glued to the row of gold coins bouncing along the hem of his red vest as he turned to leave. His posture was loose and confident – Sirius’ insides gave a pleasurable squirm.

He reached out and grabbed Lily’s arm, filled with fanatical urgency. “Can I meet him? Is he one of the displayers offering talks?”

Lily cast him an amused, indulgent smile. “According to the programme, yes – he’ll be giving a brief Q-and-A in about ten minutes. Want to go and give him your number, hm?”

Sirius rolled scornful eyes at her, but she was closer to the truth than he wanted to admit.

Promising to catch them up, Sirius peeled away from his friends and positioned himself among the others waiting by the talk area. Before too long the dancer appeared. He had swapped his costume for loose clothes; they clung artistically from his well-defined form. His demeanour still held Sirius captivated and he moved a little closer.

“I’m Remus Lupin,” the man said, giving the audience a brusque nod. “For the next fifteen minutes I’m happy to answer any questions you might have about belly dance.”

Sirius listened as Remus answered questions about form and training, but mostly he concentrated on Remus himself, scraping intent eyes across the trim lines of his body, the tumble of his hair.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so driven by inspiration.

Remus finished his talk with a brief farewell nod. Sirius took a step forwards but a young woman reached Remus first. She giggled up at him and Remus smiled, but it was cold and she went away disappointed. A man noticed and hopefully jumped forward, placing one hand on Remus’ shoulder as he leaned in close. Remus took a very forceful step back, his face dark and animal. The man threw him a look of toxic anger as he marched away.

 Remus rolled out his shoulders and began to walk away but Sirius wasn’t going to miss his chance. He jumped forwards and strode after him, calling, “Hey, mate! Got a minute?”

He saw Remus sigh before he turned around, expression impatient and unwelcoming.  “Yes?”

“I...” Sirius recoiled slightly at the look Remus threw him. He prickled with indignation and stood his ground, but the moment knocked him off his stride – unchecked words tumbled from his lips and left him horrified. “Your dancing – it’s exquisite. Please let me paint you.”

Remus’ eyebrows slid up in disbelief. “That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard. You’re all bloody alike, aren’t you?”

Sirius blinked. “Sorry?”

“Look,” Remus snapped, his impatience being swallowed by genuine anger. “I don’t want your number and I don’t want to suck you off before my next show. For fuck’s sake, just leave me alone.”

For a moment Sirius gaped at him, utterly stunned – and then a sudden image of sex with Remus pounded into his brain; a spike of lust darted between his thighs. Sirius forcibly shook it off. “No – you misunderstand...”

Remus crossed his arms, scowling expectantly. He shifted his weight into one foot and Sirius wondered just what his abs were doing underneath his shirt. Ignoring the distraction, Sirius met Remus’ frustration with a dose of his own, thinly hidden by a winning smile.

“Look, I actually am a painter, man. Your performance was really striking and I just wanted to ask if you’d sit for me. No strings – just because you inspire me.” Sirius suddenly wished he knew how to entice someone into a business deal.

Remus squinted at him through dark, assessing eyes. In a suspicious tone he asked, “You have an exhibit here?”

Sensing a spark of interest Sirius’ grin stretched wider. He tried not to look over enthused. “Yeah. Sirius Black.”

The corner of Remus’ mouth curled down. He raked a hand through his sweat-stiff curls and eyed Sirius. “I’ll come and take a look at the end of the day. Your minute’s up; do excuse me.” Sirius caught the myriad emotions dancing across his features before Remus curtly turned away, but he couldn’t read any of them.

l-l

Sirius watched his friends perform and headed back to his own exhibit. He began to feel disheartened, belatedly realising that Remus had probably just said what was necessary to make Sirius leave him alone.

So he was rather surprised when Remus actually turned up, looking tired and effortlessly stylish, a satchel dangling from one shoulder. Sirius was preparing to leave when he saw Remus moving idly between the felt screens, gaze washing over the art.

Sirius was proud that all of his saleable work had been purchased – it was a mark of prestige. Hopes rising again, Sirius wondered if it would help sway Remus in his favour. He walked over.

“Hey,” he greeted. “I’m glad you turned up.”

Remus turned to him, one brow arched. “I said I would.” His voice was neutral. He said, “Your work is quite good. Though I see you take some liberty with beautifying your subjects.”

Sirius glanced across at the portrait Remus was perusing. “Oh, no – that’s a mate of mine. He’s every bit as pretty as the painting.”

Remus’ eyebrow hooked a little higher. “’Dearborn’,” he quoted. “How did you come with that title?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s his name.”

Remus turned to him, the corner of his mouth twitching. Sirius thought he looked somewhat amused. “An interesting name,” he slurred, before wandering silently around the rest of the display. Sirius fidgeted, trying to read through Remus’ blank expression.

Finally Remus turned to him and said, “What would you ask of me if I were to sit for you?”

Sirius decided to interpret that as approval even though the flippancy annoyed him. “Well, I’d get you to come to my studio and work on some mock-ups ... you’d have full input and won’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’ll work off my own aesthetic though – which by some fluke is quite popular as you can see.”

“And your name has nothing to do with it?”

A rush of indignant blood surged through Sirius. “I don’t associate with my family,” he said shortly.

Remus’ eyebrow twitched again but his face was neutral.

Fury coursed along Sirius’ nerves. “Are you interested?” he asked hotly. Remus might be a dance phenomenon but Sirius wasn’t sure putting up with his attitude would be worth the effort.

Remus didn’t react to his flash of temper, merely swept him with a long, appraising look. “Perhaps,” he murmured at length. “Strictly professional?”

“Of course,” Sirius said with a haughty glare. He was about to tell Remus to forget about it – in less polite words – when the man turned back to the display and skimmed his fingers along the edge of a canvas.

“I’ll come. For an interview at your studio.”

Sirius frowned. “You sure? You don’t seem overly interested.”

Remus looked at him, fingertips pressed to his lips as he considered Sirius. Finally he muttered, “No one’s ever said I inspire them before.”

l-l

They arranged a time for the following week. Sirius had not forgotten Remus’ aloof demeanour but the image of warm muscles and flying silks had proven a stronger motivation than even burning exasperation could quash.

 He prepared his studio for six o’clock on Tuesday evening. Remus was perfectly punctual. He entered Sirius’ house politely, sublime body hidden beneath the drape of a well-loved knit. Sirius deliberately made sure not to look at the exposed collarbones holding up the distressed fabric. _Fuck he’s really sexy_.

“Good to see you again,” Sirius said around a welcoming grin, leading Remus to the studio.

He replied with a small, guarded smile. A stab of annoyance pumped through Sirius.

Remus looked around the studio, crossing to Sirius’ display wall which featured his private pieces. “Attractive place,” Remus said as he turned to meet Sirius’ eyes. “Right, well ... you’ll have to tell me what you want me to do. I’ve not done this kind of thing before.”

Sirius wasn’t used to people being unimpressed with his work. Remus’ attitude didn’t just annoy him, it left him disconcerted. Sirius was hot property and immodest; inside his studio he was in control. He didn’t necessarily want Remus to fawn over him like some clients did, but he did expect a little appreciation.  _Last chance dickhead,_ he thought, barely stifling his irritation.

“We need to discuss what you’re comfortable with first,” he said briskly. “After that I can look at how I want to compose the piece.”

Remus’ amber eyes were unreadable. “As long as you act professionally then I’m reasonably comfortable. You do want me to sit as a dancer, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, turning to adjust the position of his lights so that Remus’ wouldn’t see his eye-roll. “Take a seat for a minute. Those sinuous moves – can you hold those?”

Remus shrugged himself onto the stool; Sirius could feel his heavy gaze following him around the room. “Fluids? Not so much. Percussive moves are much easier to hold, but they’ll be somewhat graceless.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius murmured, not entirely sure what Remus was describing. “Are you cool with me taking some photographs of you dancing, then?” He glanced over his shoulder and caught Remus’ nod.

“Sure I’m cool with it. I’ve been videoed and photographed enough times.”

“I’d like to get you to sit for me properly as well, though. I prefer to work from life wherever I can.”

“Of course,” Remus said smoothly. Sirius squinted at him, wondering if he was being made fun of. “How do you want to begin?”

The question snapped Sirius into work mode. He crossed the room and walked a slow circle around Remus, studying him with objective intensity. Remus’ head turned to follow him and Sirius gestured with an impatient grunt for him to sit still. He surprised a tiny flicker of unease cross Remus’ face and stored it away to feel smug about later – at least he wasn’t the only one feeling ill at ease.

He studied Remus without seeing him. “Do you have different costumes?”

Remus started hard. “What? Oh, yes ... several different ones.”

“Do you have a preferred one?” Sirius pressed as he finished circling and moved to fetch a heavy portfolio.

Remus paused for a moment, thoughtful. “No, not especially. Costuming depends on the performance. Most times I’m dancing a _raqs sharqi_ , so I have several _bedlahs_. I also have a couple of costumes with a more ... gothic influence, I suppose.”

“Can you clarify that?” Sirius asked, flipping through his folder.

He could hear an unexpected grin in Remus’ voice. “Well, they’re a bit ... primal.”

Sirius looked up with an impatient frown. “What does that mean?” he said, trying not to snap. He had promised to be professional but Remus seemed determined to be difficult. _It’s because you fancy him and he couldn’t be more indifferent, you vain arse._

 Remus’ grin turned wolfish. “Well, it means they’re rather dark ... maybe a little kinky – fur and chain and leather, that kinda thing. They’re mainly for my performances at The Horcrux Club, though.”

Startled, Sirius glanced up again, book cradled in one arm. “What?”

Remus was fighting down an obvious laugh. The edge of his mouth twitched and his glowing eyes met Sirius’. He didn’t answer.

Sirius licked his lips, resisting the urge to picture Remus’ lithe body wrapped in leather straps. Hoping his piqued interest wasn’t too obvious, Sirius murmured, “Well, that’s not quite what I’m thinking of. We’ll stick to the uh, customary stuff. What colours do you wear?”

The sudden humour dropped from Remus’ face, eyes dimming some. “The red one you saw. I also have teal-blue and purple ... they’re all slightly different in cut and style.”

Sirius thought for a moment. Politely, he said, “I’d like to see them if that’s alright.”

“Absolutely alright,” Remus replied. He sat still and patient as Sirius turned back to his portfolio.

“Right,” Sirius said at length, smacking the book down and taking a seat near Remus. “I want to showcase you as a dancer – your ability and uniqueness is what caught my attention. My portraits need to _breathe_ the personality of the sitter. For our piece, that will include the essence of your dancing. I’ll be straight with you mate – I’m quite keen for this. What do you say?”

Remus studied him for a moment. “I say yes.”

Sirius grinned, catching a lip between his teeth. “Hey, I’m grateful.”

Remus smiled, expression softening just a fraction. “You ... you’re welcome. Is there anything else for tonight then?”

Sirius tried to look nonchalant but the truth was that he was desperate to see Remus dance again. “Could you run through some basic moves? Give me an idea of, uh ... what’s going to be aesthetically pleasing?”

Sirius had foolishly expected him to be nervous. But Remus immediately slid from his stool, stripping away his jumper. He stretched; Sirius choked on his breath as a stretch of taut skin flashed between the hem of a tight singlet and low-slung jeans.

If Remus noticed he didn’t let on. “You’ll have to bear with me.” He gestured at his clothes. “Not my usual dancing attire.”

 “Yeah, of course.”

Remus scratched his curls back into a loose knot and paused for a moment, his expression vacant, concentrating on something beyond what Sirius could see. Then he began to move, sudden and sharp. His hips flicked powerfully up and down then circled in deep arcs. Sirius forced himself to watch with a critical eye, reluctantly dragging his vision away from the hem of Remus’ top – it was riding up his tantalising belly.

Sirius forced himself to watch with an objective, critical eye. He had actually seen women belly dancer before, but they were nothing like this – there was something indefinably _more_ about Remus, a personal subtlety. His dancing looked amazing even with clothes covering up the flex of his muscles, his finer movements. Each step seemed to be a careful calculation, a balance of speed and grace. Sirius made some mental notes, things he would want to explore during their next session.

Remus curved through a deep back bend and Sirius’ eyes flickered across his body. Lust pumped into his bloodstream. _I’ll bet he’s good in bed_.

 Sirius fought to shake the desire from his brain – this was _work_ , nothing more. _You liar_. He coughed. “Right, uh ... that’s great, thanks.”

Remus straightened and shook his muscles out with a satisfied sigh. “Well, then?” he asked. “Still interested without the festival atmosphere to show me up?”

“Fucking yes,” Sirius answered. Crossing the room, he snatched up his diary. “When can you come in to pose?”

Remus’ eyes flicked over him. “How long would you want me here for?”

 _For-fucking-ever_. “A couple of hours I think. I’d like to see how the different costumes look, take some photographs, discuss any input you’d like to have. I don’t like to rush my work.”

Remus tipped his head slightly, acknowledging Sirius’ words. “I’m free Tuesday evenings each week.”

Sirius paused, his finger pressed to a page in the book. He didn’t want to wait another entire week to take advantage of this inspiration. “You can’t come in any earlier? I’ve got an opening on Thursday ... or Sunday night?”

Remus hooked a derisive eyebrow at him. “I understand that tortured artists live by eclectic schedules ... but I have a day job.”

“Oh,” Sirius said, startled. He actually hadn’t considered that. “Oh, of course. Uhm, well you won’t want to spoil your weekend, so...”

Remus breathed a frustrated sigh and Sirius was sure he wasn’t even _trying_ to hide his eye-roll. “What _time_ on Thursday?”

Sirius glanced up at him with a gleaming hope. “Four o’clock?”

Remus did some quick thinking, clearly running through a schedule in his head. With a sharp nod he said, “Yes, alright.”

Sirius hesitated, baffled. The Remus shoving himself back into his oversized jumper was the same man who’d arrived – dismissive, disinterested. “You’ll be able to get away without any hassle?” he asked, trying one final valiant attempt at appearing companionable.

Remus gave him a thin smile, slipping his thumbs through holes in his sleeves. “My final lecture is at two. I can rearrange a couple of hours – _only_ this time, mind. I hope you don’t expect me to dance to your tune.”

Irritation scruffed along Sirius back, but he was also quietly impressed by Remus’ blunt assertiveness. “Oh. You’re a student?”

He was stunned when Remus chuckled.

“No, of course not. I’m a professor.”

l-l

 Sirius would never have guessed that a teacher would belly dance for fun. He imagined Remus in a tweed blazer with a stern glare and no-nonsense attitude, stripping away the working week with a twirl of vibrant silk.

He kind of liked that image.

As for Remus himself, Sirius wasn’t sure if he liked him or not. There was a hint of clever sarcasm beneath his asperity that Sirius was keen to trigger again. Hoping that things would improve as they developed a rapport, Sirius remained eager for their appointment on Thursday.

 Remus arrived looking somewhat worn and tired. “You alright? You look rather harassed.”

Remus replied with a wry smile. “Long day. They say teaching is its own reward – it’s its own bloody trial, too.”

Small talk being an important part of his job Sirius leapt at the opening, glad that Remus appeared to be feeling more sociable. “Bad students, huh? What do you teach?”

“Sociology and Criminology. My final class today was an interactive lecture on the legal history of homosexuality and how it impacted social minorities in Britain.”

Sirius blinked. “Right. Wow. Well, I can guess that would be a fairly hot topic.”

Remus shrugged, dropping his satchel as they entered the studio. “Oh, I don’t mind a lively debate. No, the problem is that _every_ time I give this lecture there are students who go hot for teacher on me.” His expression pulled tight, vexed.

Sirius stared at him, mystified. “Because you’re talking about social prejudice?”

Remus glanced at him with a smile of quiet amusement. “Because they think that my pro-LGBT-plus standpoint makes me ... sexy,” he slurred the final word with vague distaste.

Sirius laughed. “Did you get hit on during the lecture or after?”

Remus eyes rolled wide. “After. The Thomas girl was waiting for me in my office when I went to pack up. She has a five year old son, for goodness sake!”

Sirius was intrigued. “Is she married?”

“No, widowed a few years ago. All the same...”

Sirius squinted at him, amused and curious. “So how did you put her off?”

Remus laughed. “Oh, it’s fairly simple. It’s against university policy for me to date a student. Of course, some students like to think those rules don’t apply to them ... I have a few stock phrases that generally scare _them_ off.”

“Like what?” Sirius asked, crossing the room. He lifted a teapot, silently offering Remus a cup.

“Yes please,” Remus said. He shucked his coat off and dropped it over his bag. “Oh, I tell them things such as, I was in a car accident and suffered nerve damage that left me impotent. Or that I only sleep with folks who speak Welsh. Or that my sugar-daddy is a professional hit-man.” The edge of Remus’ mouth gave a sly tug. “That line’s my favourite. The reactions I get are priceless.”

“I’ll bet.” Sirius glanced at him, a little stunned. Remus did not appear at all to be the stoical lecturer he had imagined. “So there’s no one at home you need to worry about then?”

Remus threw him a sharp glare and Sirius back-peddled. _Don’t blow it now, Padfoot._ “I only mean, since you don’t use that as an excuse...”

“Oh. Well, that kind of excuse doesn’t always work,” Remus said evasively. He smiled amicably when Sirius passed him a mug of tea but changed the topic abruptly. “Anyway, I brought some costumes with me. Will I need to model them or do you just want to pick a colour?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to see how each one moves as you dance so we have a base for the composition.”

“Fine,” Remus said. He made to put his cup down but Sirius held up a hand, swallowing a slight annoyance. _Would it kill him to be a_ little _friendly?_

“Hey, finish your tea first. I won’t ask any more personal questions.”

Remus looked startled. “Oh, I didn’t... I don’t mean to be unsociable.” He spun his mug between vague hands, voice low and distant. “Sorry.”

Sirius was puzzled but wanted to keep their dialogue going. Slurping his tea, he asked carefully, “Introverted?”

Remus cast him a look of amused distaste which didn’t gel with his surreptitious tone. “Just out of practice.”

Sirius was curious but just astute enough not to ask any more. Trying to move back to safer waters, he observed, “You seem very free in your dancing.”

“Ah well, life has a way of stuffing these things about. But nothing can touch me when I dance.” Remus scratched a cough. “Anyway, what about you? Is this all you do?”

Sirius reared back, pretending to be affronted. “This is not an _all_. This is my way of _life_ ,” he declared with a dramatic, flailing arm.

Remus looked embarrassed. “No, I wasn’t suggesting ... I uh, meant – do you have any other work?”

Sirius grinned, stretching a reassuring hand across Remus’ arm. He regretted it when the other man tensed. “Hey, I’m just cheeking you. No, this is my full-time gig. Bit like with you, art was my escape – back when I was trapped in the cut-throat business empire. I was heading a bad way, so when someone offered me a commission I jumped at the chance to make painting more than a hobby.”

“Seems to be working for you. You do have a fantastic talent.” Even Remus’ compliments sounded reticent.

Sirius grinned vibrantly all the same. “Thanks man. And thank you for agreeing to work with me – it’s rare enough someone grabs my attention like you have. It’s exciting to be able to do a piece just because I want to.”

Remus watched him over the rim of his mug, eyes unexpectedly soft. He breathed deep. “I think I know what you mean. And you’re welcome – this ... this is intriguing. And so was your approaching me with an agenda that _didn’t_ involve climbing into my trousers.”

 _It would have been a nice bonus though_. Sirius pushed the thought away, smirking. “Yes, I remember you seemed quite against the idea. But I suppose even a divine specimen like myself isn’t tempting to the man who’s not looking.” Then, as a frowned afterthought: “Or if he’s straight, I suppose.”

Remus’ face eased into an enigmatic smile. It shook Sirius in a pleasant way.

Remus gulped the last of his tea and abruptly stood up. “Which outfit would you like me to model first?”

“Oh – whichever,” Sirius said, sliding off his stool as well. “You can change behind that screen if you like.”

“And if I don’t like?”

Astounded, Sirius turned and surprised a dark mischief shimmering in Remus’ eyes. With a slow, appreciative grin Sirius replied airily, “Then feel free to walk around as naked as you like, mate. I’m well renowned for my nude studies.”

Remus laughed and crossed the room.

He emerged utterly transformed. Remus’ tight body was unselfconsciously exposed. He didn’t seem to notice Sirius staring as he crossed to the stereo, trousers swishing delightfully. Sirius couldn’t help but wonder what his thighs looked like beneath them.

An eclectic and upbeat instrumental song thrummed into the room and without pause Remus turned and stepped into a dance routine. Sirius stood by his desk, analysing the seamless movements and shifting costume as well as Remus’ expression – his physicality, his utter abandon.

He ignored the heat spreading across his loins.

Remus danced the song out then swept his hair back with swift hands and paused the music. “Right, give me a moment,” he said, barely sounding out of breath.

He disappeared to change outfit, choosing a different song and routine.

Sirius frowned, scratching down key words without looking away from Remus – there was a lot of diversity between the costumes and routines that he’d need to choose from.

The blue outfit caught his attention. It was a rich, deep colour – a perfect contrast with Remus’ honeyed complexion; cut deep, ropes of beading held the trousers on, curving smooth and firm across the arch of slim hip. There was no bolero with this one – just low slung trousers and long expanses of warm, naked flesh.

 _That’s it_ , Sirius thought as a creative thrill shuddered through him. _That’s the one_. He didn’t need to see the fabric moving to know it – though he still enjoyed watching its blue shift around Remus’ powerful body, framed by the rhythm of another unexpectedly perfect song.

Sirius scribbled down a few mores words as the music stopped and Remus shook his hair out, catching his breath. His skin glowed under a sheen of light sweat. “Any thoughts then?” he mumbled, glancing up through his lashes.

“Definitely that costume...” Sirius said eagerly, scrambling around his desk for a hard pencil. “I’ve made a few notes here, look...”

Remus walked over and snatched up the scrawl of half-finished thoughts. The edge of his mouth pulled up and Sirius realised he was fighting a laugh. “Well, you’ve not described the movements in the regular way, but I think I understand. Would you like me to put these together for you?”

Sirius glanced up. “Can you do that?”

Remus _did_ laugh. “Yes.”

“Do you – do you need to like ... practice them?”

Remus scanned the notes again and shrugged. “If you want a proper routine then yes. If you want me just to knock out these moves then I can do something freestyle for you tonight. Is there anything you specifically want me to focus on?”

Sirius tapped the notepad. “Yeah... that slide-y move. You had your hip out to the side...”

“This?” Remus gave him an amused smirk but something odd flashed through his expression as he drew a breath and bent into the pose.

Sirius walked a loop around Remus, drinking in the swerve and coil of his side, the improbably deep sweep of his body curving a smooth line into the folds of his trousers. It wasn’t _quite_ right – Sirius understood what Remus meant about losing the movement’s fluid grace ... but it was also spoilt by sudden and unsettling high tension rippling through Remus’ body.

“Okay?” Remus’ voice was low and cagey.

“Very okay,” Sirius said, too distracted to register Remus’ discomfort. He scraped a pencil across his notebook, a vague sketch, a last note. “I’ve got a few ideas but if we can get some photos today that’d be great... Are you cold?” Sirius glanced up and found Remus rubbing his arms lightly.

He shrugged, wriggling bare shoulders. “Dancing gets me a bit warm. Tend to feel chilled when I stop unless I throw something on.”

“Hang on.” Heat flooded Sirius’ brain as he snatched up a robe and passed it to Remus.  ‘ _Dancing gets me a bit warm’. Fuck, me too_. “Here, pop this on and come sit for a bit. Then if you don’t mind I’ll get some snapshots of you?”

“Snap away,” Remus muttered, eyeing the robe before shrugging into it. He gratefully accepted the glass of water Sirius passed him and perched back on his stool.

Sirius sat with him. “You’re pretty in tune with the music you pick. It’s not the genre I would’ve expected for a belly dancer.”

Remus’ face folded into a crafty grin. “Well, I‘ve never been one to conform. But the music sets the tone for the story of the dance. It has to have feeling and I need to be able to construct a narrative from it.”

“Right.” Sirius bit his lip, feeling oddly flustered.  Trying to keep his mind strictly on work, he reached out and plucked at a fold of Remus’ trousers, turning the fabric between his fingers. Remus jerked fiercely away from him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just...” Sirius’ voice trailed off. _What the hell?_

“It’s fine,” Remus said, his hoarse voice clearly stating that it wasn’t.

Sirius sat up, awkward hands rubbing against his jeans. “No, I shouldn’t have just started grabbing at you... I only wanted to inspect the fabric. Sometimes I forget that new subjects aren’t used to me being in their personal space.”

Remus’ eyes were curiously shaded. “Subjects ... I see.”

“Oh for fuck’s ... I didn’t mean it like that.” Sirius snapped impatiently, embarrassed and annoyed. “Look, this is how I work and I’m sorry I forgot to ask you first. D’you mind?”

Remus’ face was a mask of ice. He sipped his water; Sirius was alarmed to see his hand was shaking.

Then, just as unexpectedly, Remus hooked one foot up, silk flowing from his bent knee in graceful waves. “Go ahead,” he announced, voice like snapping twigs.

Sirius hesitated, confused by the vehemence of Remus’ reluctance. Aiming for normalcy he gingerly slipped his hand back into the drape of fabric – this he couldn’t learn from a picture.

Remus twitched again, breathing painfully slow and deliberate. “Are you ready to wrap this up then?” he asked tersely as the moments stretched out.

Sirius paused. The tenuous rapport they had begun to establish was completely gone. Remus shied away from him, defensive and snarling, but it was not Sirius’ custom to leave his clients feeling uncomfortable. He pulled himself straight and crossed his arms. “No.”

Remus blinked. “Excuse me?”

The atmosphere between them shifted in a subtle wave. “No, I am not ready to end this session yet. You seem very tense and I’d like you to take a few more minutes to relax. It’s important to me that you be comfortable here and I apologise for my thoughtlessness.”

Sirius hoped his words would calm – maybe even abash – Remus. They did neither. Instead, Remus glared at him. “Just ask before you touch me next time.”

Sirius shrugged. “Sure.”

Despite his intentional flippancy Sirius was troubled by Remus’ severe reaction. He wanted to ask about it, but knew better than to dare. He stood and busied himself looking for a colour chart so that Remus wouldn’t see his expression.

After a moment Remus sighed and shifted; a rustle of cloth against the creak of expensive wood. He spoke in a voice both miserable and edged with aggression. “Look ... I’m just a bit touchy, alright? People take a lot of liberties when I’m in a _bedlah_. It’s ... made me a little defensive over the years.”

It was a plausible excuse – Sirius had witnessed that mistrust first hand after all. But he sensed there was more, some other reason that Remus was intentionally omitting. _He doesn’t have to share his personal life with me_.

“I can understand that,” he replied instead, irritated by the crack in his voice. “But I respect what you do and I am one hundred percent professional.” Sirius kept silent, fussing blindly with his chart.

 “Are you ready for the pictures, then?” Remus finally asked, tone finally steady but heinously colourless.

“Only if you are,” Sirius replied evenly, glancing up. Remus blank eyes watched him, dark as midnight, and Sirius’ heart sank. He had so wanted to capture Remus’ intense expression in the photos – the spark was gone. His hope of developing a deeper bond with Remus – something based on his overwhelming attraction – fell with it.

Remus went over Sirius’ notes again, waiting silently as Sirius fiddled with his photography equipment.

It was different, watching an impromptu performance through the distance of a lens. Remus’ discomfort melted away as he moved but returned with interest when Sirius put his camera down.

Shaking out his wiry limbs, Remus stepped neatly behind the partition to change. It told Sirius with more force than any words could that the session was definitely over.

He re-emerged rippling with impatience and wary as a wild animal. “So, Tuesday night is it?”

“If it still suits you,” Sirius said keeping an uncharacteristically firm grip on his confused exasperation.

Remus shrugged, not meeting Sirius’ eyes. “S’fine. What time?”

“Any time that suits you. If you’ve got any accents or jewellery for your costume would you mind bringing them along?”

“Right,” Remus mumbled.

Sirius frowned, his hand twitching reflexively, wanting to offer Remus support. He tried some gentle words instead. “Hey, I appreciate you posing for me, y’know.”

A soft smile curved Remus’ mouth but when he glanced up through scrubby curls Sirius plainly saw the lingering hurt in his guarded eyes. “Well, you’re welcome. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

l-l

Their next session was brief and cold. Remus seemed to have decided not to engage with Sirius or the portrait at all.

“I’ve selected a few images that should work well,” Sirius said, pushing a handful of photos across the desk for Remus to appraise. “Which do you prefer?”

 “I trust your judgement.” Remus shrugged, arms crossed.  “You’re the artist.”

“Well ... yes. But I want your input. This works best when the patron’s actively involved – it will help me give the picture life.”

Remus sneered. “I’m here, aren’t I? What more do you want?”

If he weren’t a client he wanted Sirius would have shoved Remus out of his studio. Instead, he ground his teeth together and forced a mostly-calm voice. “I thought you might like a say, most people do y’know. But if you prefer that I to make all the decisions then I suppose I can do that.”

Sirius himself did have a preference.  He had spent hours trawling the images to select a favourite. He snatched the photos back and shuffled out his favourite, passing it to Remus. “Would you be comfortable with this?”

Remus stared down at his snapshot impassively. “Yes.”

Sirius was furious with Remus’ attitude. The friendliness of their last session still flickered at the edges of a strangling hostility. _Good thing it’s just work and there’s no other motive,_ Sirius lied bitterly to himself.

They used that session to finetune the pose and features, Sirius mumbling a random string of words to fill the silence. Remus executed slow movements, exaggerating the image Sirius had selected. He did everything asked of him without speaking a word.

Still, despite his sad edginess Sirius kept catching Remus’ eyes following him as he went about his work. There was something decidedly odd going on.

By the end of the session, Sirius was wont to explode from frustration.

“So, will you need me next week?” Remus asked as he slipped into his jumper at the door.

Sirius trapped him in an irate glare. “Look, Remus ... I’m getting a real feeling that you’re regretting this. If you don’t want to continue, just tell me.”

Remus’ mouth fell open; he finally met Sirius’ eyes. “I ... uh, no.” His voice grew very soft, a faint line appearing between his brows. “I’d like to continue, Sirius.”

“Can you try _acting_ like it? This is much more enjoyable for me if I think my client actually wants to be involved.”

Remus raked his hair back. His fingers were trembling. “Right, sorry. I just ... no. It’s fine. I’ll see you next week.”

But Remus’ infuriating attitude was not enough to dampen Sirius’ enthusiasm for the project. Over the next few days he didn’t even leave the house, working on the portrait of Remus between his other commitments. It had been a very long time since Sirius had been so ensconced by inspiration.

He also wanted to understand Remus’ forceful standoffishness. He wanted their delicate flirtation back. Mostly, he wanted to stop being attracted to such a cold man.

The angst faded as he started to work on the canvas. It absorbed him completely.

By the end of the week, James was chasing him down. “You haven’t left that fucking studio in days!” he bellowed down the phone. “You need to get out and see _people_. Come out with Lily and me tomorrow.”

Sirius switched his phone from one ear to the other as he brushed his fingers across a sketch. His brow crumpled in a critical frown. “Where’re you going? Club Marauder?”

“No ... Lily hasn’t had a night without Harry for a while and she wants to really let her hair down. So we’re going to Horcrux.”

Stunned, Sirius’ finally gave James his full attention. “Wow. Really?”

“Yeah, I was surprised too. But anyway. Peter’s gonna get us in free and you’re coming too Padfoot, whether you like it or not.”

Sirius raked a frustrated hand through his hair, wincing as he snagged a painful tangle. James was right, he’d been working too long. A few hours out would do him good. “Right-o. Shall I come get you or d’you wanna pick me up?”

James’ laugh echoed down the line. “Forget it mate. We’ve got the babysitter for the whole night and we’re crashing to yours – so you can’t get into that studio until we leave.”

l-l

The next night found Sirius down at The Horcrux Club with James and Lily. Peter met them at the door – he worked the bar, and with a grinned “they’re with me!” to the bouncer they skipped the cover charge and stepped into the club.

It was Peter’s night off. He flashed the vibrant grin that only James ever seemed able to pull out of him and led them through the stream of bodies. “The others are in here – come on.”

The Horcrux Club was big – gaming rooms, bars, dance floors. Peter steered them towards the cabaret theatre where Gideon was waiting with his twin and brother-in-law. Fabian and Caradoc Dearborn were watching the stage expectantly.

Gideon spotted them and waved, smacking a friendly kiss to Lily’s cheek once they were close enough. “Get a load of this – they’ve just announced that dancer guy from the festival last month!”

Sirius’ head snapped around so fast his neck cramped. Rubbing at it with aggressive annoyance he belatedly remembered that Remus had mentioned he danced gigs at The Horcrux Club. And indeed, there he was –spinning his way across the stage. A ridiculously popular goth-rock song had just started pounding through the crackling club speakers.

Sirius’ mouth dropped open, a dollop of lust slipping down his spine. Remus costume _was_ something primal – he was swathed in scanty black, draped with heavy chains, rope, leather... His muscles glittered under the shimmering lights. The music segued into some type of electronica, dark and juddering.

Sirius’ surged with electric desire. A gothic Remus was not something he was prepared for. And this was an entirely different style of dance – hard and vicious, dominating. It was more than a feeling; this was full narrative, this was cabaret.

 _He’s still a client ... down boy. Look at this as another source of inspiration._ But there was no way to ignore the pounding desire his attraction to Remus had triggered. Sirius bit his lip, groaning as his cock gave an agreeable throb.

“This guy is amazing,” Gideon said to his brother, cracking through Sirius’ reverie.

“Oh, I know,” Fabian grinned in return, nudging his husband. “We come here every month just to see him.”

“Sirius is painting him!” James clapped Sirius on the back. He staggered forwards, knocked off balance.

Caradoc raised his eyebrows. “Lucky bloody you, Padfoot. And hey, I saw my picture made good money.”

Sirius waved a flippant hand but he was pleased. He made an effort to follow the conversation, but his focus was continuously pulled back Remus’ dancing a dark, twisted story.

Fabian noticed. He slipped away from the others and materialised at Sirius’ side. “They call him The Werewolf here. And I can tell you, _I_ wouldn’t mind being bitten by him.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “What does your better half think of that?”

Fabian grinned, all devilish mischief. “He thinks we should have a threesome.” He laughed, but when Sirius didn’t Fabian’s gaze turned shrewd. “You hot for him? No – no you’re ... you have a _crush_ on him!”

Sirius blinked. He bit out a haughty reply, “No I don’t. It’s strictly business.”

“Bullshit,” Fabian said but his tone was gentle. “It’s half ‘you intrigue me’, and half ‘I want to fuck your brains out’.”

“I want him to fuck _my_ brains out,” Sirius admitted, turning to Fabian with a rueful smile.

Fabian eyebrows flicked with voyeuristic delight. “So it’s ‘strictly business’ because _why_?”

Sirius frowned, his eyes drifting back to the stage of their own accord. “He’s kind of a jerk.”

Fabian grabbed his arm for balance as he roared with laughter. “Since then does that matter if you just wanna get your rocks off? You _like_ him. You wouldn’t give a _damn_ about his attitude if it was just sex. So why is he a jerk, then?”

The furrow on Sirius’ forehead deepened, gaze locked with hungry lust on the leather straps crossing Remus’ belly. He wanted to leap onto the stage and rip them off with his teeth, to replace them with a wet tongue, mapping a river of needful craving across hot skin. “He’s unnecessarily standoffish – rude even. He was okay at the start, funny, a bit flirty. Now ... it would be a compliment even to call him civil.”

“Perhaps he’s already seeing someone,” Fabian suggested. “Keeping you at bay?”

Disappointment pulled an arch in Sirius’ eyebrow. “I guess.” He followed the sway of Remus’ hips hungrily. “God, I hope not.”

Fabian knocked Sirius with his hip. “Have you actually asked him?”

Sirius scoffed. “He told me he wasn’t interested before I even told him my name.”

Fabian’s blue eyes gave a wildly exaggerated roll but his words were sincere. “Of course he did! D’you know how many people hit on him here? His defences were probably up. Get your fucking head on straight, Padfoot. Just be your born and bred gentlemanly self and see if you can’t win him over. And if you do then I _really_ want to know what those hips do when he’s shagging, okay? Like ... just fucking _look_ at him.”

Sirius barked a laugh. Fabian stayed beside him, murmuring a personal interpretation throughout the dance: “Dominant seduction, Pads, I’m telling you!” But too soon the song ended and Remus slunk from the stage – gone. Fabian squeezed Sirius' shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in an hour.”

Sirius tried to act normal for that hour, but he was distracted. In the back of his mind he was caught between lust-filled fantasy and artistic stimulation. James smacked him upside the head whenever he caught Sirius’ eyes glazing over.

Finally, the MC hollered over the speakers. “Welcome back The Werewolf!” and dozens of club-goers swarmed back to the cabaret stage.

This dance was very different. There was a massive cage in the centre of the stage, Remus already trapped within it. His costume was strung with fur and claw, beads and bone; they clicked a sharp percussion as he moved. His hair was a wild tangle around his painted face.

This dance was _predatory_ , the music filled with savage lamentation. And Sirius saw why they called him The Werewolf: Remus’ dance explicitly expressed the violent transformation of man to animal, a beast thrashing against confinement. He swung a backbend so deep he was parallel to the floor, offering a silent howl to an invisible moon.

Sirius was dizzy with desire.

James knocked a hip into him. “Oy, you’re not thinking about work are you?”

Sirius scowled. “My subject is right there, Prongs!” he gestured almost aggressively.

“Right,” James said. “Come on. Stop watching him.”

“James, he’s only on for fifteen minutes and this is his last set,” Fabian interjected.

James glowered but reluctantly let Sirius watch. At the end of the emotive, mesmerising routine Sirius’ chest ached for the poor trapped creature Remus had portrayed. James dragged him forcefully to the dance floor; eventually Sirius lost himself in alcohol and pounding music.

But Sirius couldn’t resist the siren call of his studio. He spent a restless night, woke early and slunk off to his workspace before James could wake up and stop him.

He made himself some coffee, absent-mindedly putting the kettle down three inches from the cradle as he snatched up his reference stills and wandered to his easel.

He looked at it with fresh eyes. _There’s still so much to do,_ he thought, slurping a great gulp of coffee. He spluttered, coughing wildly; it was too hot. Acutely tetchy, Sirius clunked the cup down and stepped closer to his canvas. His eyes flickered over tentative outlines, hovering fingers tracking shapes. But there was only so much he could do from pictures; Sirius was impatient for Tuesday to arrive and bring Remus with it.

He was distracted by memories of Remus from the club. Sirius stamped to his desk, snatching up some scrap paper with the intent of scratching out some notes – but instead he was stuck picturing bright, mischievous eyes and long, tight muscles under smooth skin... _Fabian’s right though, goddammit. I actually like him._

Sirius could not deny it – even to himself. He wanted to tangle Remus curls’ around his fists and kiss him until he ran out of breath ... but equally strong was his desire to crack through the shield of perspex Remus seemed so intent on holding between them. Sirius was determined to find that gentle warmth again. He desperately wanted to see where it would lead.

Sirius was still sitting at the table, pencil loose between his teeth, when the studio door burst open. He started and nearly knocked his abandoned coffee over.

“Sprung, Padfoot.” James bounded into the room looking unnaturally bright. _Why is that bastard never hung over?_ “Give us a look, then.” Without waiting for an answer, he strolled to the easel and faced the picture. “It’s a lot bigger than I expected,” he said, flicking Sirius a calculating look. “But it looks promising already.”

Sirius staggered over to him. “Cheers, Prongs. I’m itching to get more done. I can’t wait to have it finished.”

“Will you sell it? If this comes up as good as your portrait of Caradoc I bet you’d absolutely clean up on it.”

Sirius shrugged. “I plan to put it on my wall, to be honest. I guess it’ll depend on how happy I am with it.”

James nodded, peering at the outlines. “Your stuff is generally very decent, Pads. Hey, I’d like to sit in on one of your sessions. I miss seeing you this intense – it’s the only chance I ever get to see you not acting like a mad twat. Can you ask him?”

Sirius paused – Remus would either find the request completely irrelevant or utterly offensive. After a moment he said, “I can ask.”

l-l

Tuesday finally arrived, bringing Remus with it. Sirius had thrown himself into work after James and Lily had left, earning moments of distraction with his other clients and plunging himself into the belly dance portrait every evening.

He opened the door and was immediately accosted by a memory of Remus dressed in furs. _Fuck_.  With a grunt, Sirius said hello and silently steered Remus to the studio.

“Would you like to see what I’ve done so far?” he asked, aggravated by the edge in his voice. For a moment, Sirius thought he caught a snifter of baffled concern fill the lines of Remus’ face – then felt sure he had imagined it when Remus shrugged and slipped past him.

Remus looked utterly unmoved by the swirls of paint spattered across the canvas. He glared at it dispassionately while Sirius waited, tapping a rapid foot against the linoleum floor. “Well, whatta you think of it?” he snapped after a few tense moments.

Remus shivered and turned to him. “Not for me to say; I thought you were doing this piece for yourself. So surely the more important question is what do _you_ think of it?”

Sirius was not used to indifference – a lot of his patrons showered him with accolades. Sirius didn’t expect that from petulant Remus, but dammit, he was proud of his work. The lack of recognition irritated him.

Sirius met Remus’ eyes, trying to play his anger off as nonchalance. He failed utterly, poison tumbling out with his words. “ _I’m_ rather pleased with how it’s coming along.”

“Marvellous.” He certainly couldn’t manage a flippant tone anywhere as near as well as Remus. “So are you ready for me to pose?”

“Yes, thanks,” Sirius snipped through gritted teeth. Remus slid behind the partition to change.

Sirius sucked in a violent breath when Remus emerged. _This is definitely not professional anymore_. Memories of Remus on stage, moving beneath swinging chains, sent his blood pitching into his groin. He coughed to cover his desire and frantically fought the urge to shove Remus to the ground and start licking his abs.

Remus settled himself into pose with a smooth stretch of lean muscle. He glanced at Sirius, the hint of a question playing in the curve of his lips ... he suddenly faltered when he caught Sirius’ eyes on him, something flashing across his face too fast for Sirius to read.

Remus’ brilliant eyes dropped. With a tiny cough he asked, “Uhm ... so, this is right, yeah?” His voice was unexpectedly coy ... almost _vulnerable?_ Sirius certainly thought so.

He walked a quick circle around Remus, prompting him into slight alterations with a restrained voice. Knowing it would trigger further awkwardness, he resisted his usual practice of gentle physical guidance to alter the position. Remus shifted exactly as directed without looking at Sirius again.

It was easier for Sirius to ignore Remus’ soft, distracted expression as he poured his attention into painting.

Eventually, Sirius put his brushes down with a sigh and told Remus to relax. He was remarkably disciplined – he had barely moved throughout the session; Sirius knew his muscles would be screaming. But Remus just shook himself out carefully and slunk behind the screen to change.

“I’ll put some tea on?” Sirius called, a habitual offer that he expected Remus to refuse.

 Sirius was astonished when Remus’ muffled voice echoed across the emptiness. “Oh, uh ... okay. Thank you.”

Perched edgily on a stool a few minutes later Remus looked every bit as startled as Sirius was for accepting the offer. He rubbed a finger around the rim of his cup, frowning into the dark liquid.

“I don’t get the impression you’re enjoying this,” Sirius said, breaching the yawning silence.

Remus shrugged, oversized top slipping enticingly across his collarbones. “I don’t mind it. Fills up an evening.”

Sirius tenuous control snapped. “Right,” he spat. “Well I do hope that you’re getting a _little_ more than that out of it. Since I’m so clearly interrupting your life.”

“Not at all,” Remus said, a tight crease pulling between his brows. His face had gone curiously pale.

Sirius fixed Remus with a confused, ambivalent glare. _Is he ever going to cool out?_ He made another stab at conversation, wresting his tone under harsh control. “So, I saw you at the club the other night.”

Remus spluttered but snapped his eyes up to meet Sirius’. “You were at Horcrux?” He sounded very suspicious.

Sirius’ pounced on the opening. “Yeah, a mate of mine dragged me there... He reckoned I’d been working too hard.”

Remus’ eyes still echoed with a cornered apprehension.

Sirius sighed, tired of trying. “You were very good.”

And suddenly, _astonishingly_ , the edges of Remus’ mouth twitched. “But you already knew that,” he murmured, a thread of humour gilding his words. “It’s why I’m here.”

Sirius grinned, astounded and gratified. Shining hope flitted into his chest. “Well, my mates were rather impressed. Apparently a pair of them go just to see you.”

A flash of unease clouded Remus’ face again. _Fucking hell, this guy!_ “Is that right?” Remus murmured in a thread of a voice. “That’s a little creepy.”

Sirius frowned slightly. “Yeah, maybe a little I guess. Would it make a difference if I told you they’re married?”

Remus jerked a half-shrug. “Perhaps.”

Sirius rubbed an exhausted hand across his face. The silence deafened him, so he broke it. “So. What else do you do?”

Remus started, face smooth and unfocussed as though he’d forgotten where he was. “What d’you mean?”

“Well,” Sirius said. “I know you’re a professor. I know you’re a dancer. What else are you?”

Remus eyed him, but his customary hostility seemed to have cooled somewhat. “Not that it really concerns you, but... Well, I have a small group of wonderful friends who I see at least weekly. I like good coffee. I like books. I play chess incredibly badly. I tend to keep very busy. What about _you_?” The question was said with a startling force.

Sirius suspected Remus was trying to deflect attention from himself but he answered anyway, just glad Remus was actually talking to him at all. “I do spend a lot of my time painting. Otherwise ... I like cooking. I like mechanics. I don’t like my family. I play chess very well.”

Remus smiled and swallowed the last of his tea. “Perhaps we can play next week. If you need me again next week, that is.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” Sirius pressed his signature winning grin across his face. He hesitated, knowing he was on shaky ground – but he’d promised James, so he asked. “Actually, next week ... my mate James has asked to sit in on our session ... if you’ve no objection?”

Sirius’ heart fell at the instant reaction. Remus’ expression snapped shut and he curled back in on himself. Bright, beautiful eyes flashing, his voice a vicious snap: “I not here to be ogled by your friends!”

Sirius gave his head a placating shake, long hair falling into his face. “It’s not at all like that – he just enjoys watching me work.”

Remus’ eyes bored into him with a cruel sharpness. Sirius squirmed, decidedly uncomfortable. The air suddenly felt too hot, his seat too hard.

Maybe Remus felt the same. He stood up abruptly, turning away. “This is your studio and it’s not for me to tell you how to work. Thank you for the tea, Sirius.”

“Wait a minute!” Sirius scrambled to his feet as Remus strode towards the door. His frustration bubbled over. “Why do you keep doing this?”

Remus froze, body tight as a bow string. His rasping voice tripped over shadowed words. “Doing what?”

“This!” Sirius cried, gesturing between them inarticulately. “Every time we start chatting, you clam up and run away. What’s the fucking deal, Remus?”

Remus scowled at the floor. “Look ... you seem like a nice enough bloke, okay? But this is just a job, right? So there’s no point in being friendly if as soon as that painting’s done we won’t see each other again.”

Sirius arched an indignant eyebrow and stood his ground. His temper boiled up. “You know what, Remus? If any other customer treated me the way you do, I’d have told them where to stick it. But for some reason that I don’t understand – and despite your inexplicable rudeness! – I actually _like_ you. And it may shock you to know that we _can_ stay in touch after the painting’s done. I have a phone, y’know!”

Remus hesitated, weight shifting lightly from one foot to the other. With an obvious, painful effort he looked up and met Sirius’ blazing eyes. His face was a map of wretchedness.

“It’s not personal, Sirius...” Remus muttered at last. “I just ... I just can’t explain this to you.” His voice trailed off.

Sirius’ temper fizzled out as he stared at Remus, shaken by the depth of undefinable pain swimming in his eyes. Without thinking, he put a comforting hand on Remus’ shoulder.

He wrenched away so violently it was as though he’d been electrocuted. Astonished, Sirius took a step back.

Remus marched to the door then paused with his hand on the doorknob. The hair tumbling across his neck couldn’t hide the hard line of tension between his shoulders.

Remus’ hollow voice was perfectly steady. “Not today, Sirius. Maybe soon, but not today.”

l-l

 James’ face folded into thoughtful concern when Sirius relayed the story to him the following week. “Sirius ... you’re not pushing this guy, are you?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, preparing his studio. James was sitting in the window with a cup of strong, sweet tea and a plateful of biscuits.

“You are known to come on a little strong,” James murmured in an equitable voice. “And you have to admit that you barely know this man. Despite your idealism, it may well be strange for him. Yes – I know!” James threw up a hand as Sirius made to speak. “All relationships start out as strangers. But this feller isn’t giving you really _any_ signs that he’s keen. Pads, you might just need to accept that there’s nothing there to explore.”

Sirius stared at James, reading something undefinable flashing behind his spectacles. Slowly he said, “There’s something else happening, isn’t there? Something really obvious that I’ve missed.”

James stuffed an entire biscuit into his mouth, munching unattractively while Sirius waited in smouldering impatience. Spraying crumbs, James finally said, “I think there might be. But if there is then it’s not my place to say it, and if I’m wrong then telling you could well cause problems. So, sorry Padfoot ... but you’re on your own this time.”

Sirius sneered, deeply unsatisfied. Then the doorbell rang and James jumped up to let Remus in.

Sirius was shocked and irate when they returned chatting amiably. “... my wife does ballroom but was really inspired by you. Do you ever run lessons?” James was saying.

“I used to,” Remus said. “Haven’t had the time recently, but. I can let you know if I start up again, if you like. Hello Sirius.”

“Hey,” Sirius said, staring his disbelief across the room. Remus seemed instantly relaxed with James. It was unfair. Something uncomfortably like jealousy pounded against Sirius’ brain.

It only got worse for Sirius as the two of them chattered away, filling the usual silence of Remus’ sessions with a mischievous banter. Sirius simply couldn’t concentrate. Eventually, he threw his brushes down in a huff and apologised to Remus for wasting his time.

“No, it’s my fault,” James said cheerily. “I really do love to watch you work, Padfoot. But I’d better be off ... why don’t you lads have a cup of tea to reset and then try again without my charming distraction? Walk me out Pads.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” Sirius snapped the kettle on and trudged down the stairs in James’ shadow. Once he knew Remus couldn’t overhear, he grumbled, “Fucking smooth there, Prongs. Wanna explain to me why Remus is so chummy with you but I can barely get a civil word from him?”

James gave him a slow, indulgent grin. “Because, you whopping idiot, Remus knows that I am not attracted to him. So he doesn’t feel the same sort of need to be defensive with me.”

“Well – why would he assume that I’m into him?”

James’ sudden roar of laughter echoed through the hallway. “Because you’re about as subtle as a centrefold.” His laughter died away, face folding into something a serious. “But do tread gently with him Padfoot. I mean it.”

“Okay,” Sirius said, wishing James would just be straight with him. With a warm hug of farewell James was gone and Sirius returned to his studio and Remus.

Remus was sitting on Sirius’ work stool, gazing at the damp stripes of paint smeared across the canvas.

“Sorry,” he said diffidently, standing up. “Oh. Uh, here you are. I’ve um, noticed how you take it.” Remus passed him a cup of tea with a tiny smile, stepping neatly away from the canvas.

Sirius was touched that Remus had noticed _anything_ about him. “Thanks. So – got an opinion yet?” He flicked his chin at the canvas.

Remus ignored him, asking instead, “So was James the friend who wanted to sit in? When you asked me last week?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Look, I did tell him you weren’t cool with it, but he doesn’t listen.”

“No, it’s fine,” Remus said but his voice was thin. He looked up and dipped his head towards the picture. “Looks like you’re nearly done.”

Sirius squinted at Remus intently, trying to read through his perfect mask. “What did James say – when he let you in?”

“Nothing much,” Remus said vaguely. He seemed to be listening to his own mind rather than to Sirius. “No, he was lovely. Sirius-”

“What is it?” he asked when Remus didn’t continue. Something was wrong – Remus’ brusqueness had disappeared, leaving behind an uncertain man hiding behind the whorls of steam rising from his teacup.

Remus’ forced smile only highlighted the dullness of his eyes. He looked about to speak then abruptly shook his head, curls tumbling into his eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing. You were saying how long until the portrait is finished?”

Taking James’ advice seriously, Sirius dropped the subject. “We-ell, getting the silk right is tricky. I’m not yet happy with the feel of it. The rest is coming along well though, so depending on how much I can get done this week ... two more sessions, maybe.”

“Mm,” Remus murmured to himself. “Two more... Okay.”

They managed another half an hour before Sirius gave up. His distracted confusion shattered his ability to concentrate, leaving him only making small, infuriating errors.

Remus got changed and stepped away from the screen with his teal trousers draped over one arm. He approached Sirius hesitantly, voice very hoarse. “Sirius, if you’d like ... I can leave these with you. So you can study the fabric at leisure.”

Sirius gaped. The charitable gesture felt strangely intimate. “Are you sure?”

Remus’ stiff veneer slid back into place with the shrug of a shoulder. He sucked a deep breath. “Sure. They’ll still be here next week, right?”

l-l

The portrait was getting close to finished. Sirius began to drag his feet on it, savouring the dregs of his muse. He was sure he would lose Remus when it was done. More than that, as exciting as finishing the canvas would be Sirius was also going to be disappointed when it was done – part of the joy was in the work.

“Bit like a good book,” Remus said when Sirius mentioned it to him. Then, softly, he asked, “Will you need me after tonight? It looks more or less done to me – except for the face. Or is that sort of ... anonymity what you’re after?”

Sirius smiled. “No, that’s what we’re going to work on tonight.”

Sirius had neatly draped Remus’ _bedlah_ trousers over the arm of a couch. Remus brushed his fingers through the teal folds. “Do you need me to change then?”

Sirius was finally satisfied with the flow of the painted fabric, only due to Remus’ generosity. “No thanks. I’ll just get you to sit...” Sirius vocally bothered Remus into the right position.

It wasn’t quite right – he could piece in Remus’ features but there was no way to fake the expression he had when dancing; Sirius would need his snapshots for that.

At the end of the session Remus asked vacantly, “So what happens next week? Is there some sort of christening ceremony?”

Sirius laughed. “No. When you come in next Tuesday it’ll just be to put any finishing touches in, anything I haven’t managed to get quite right.”

“You’re very dedicated to your work,” Remus said, a hint of admiration flowing into his words.

Sirius shrugged but he was pleased. _Finally he appreciates it_. “No more than you are. It’s a way of life for types like us, right? D’you wanna stay for a cuppa tonight?”

“Yeah,” Remus said with a smile that lit his face like the warm glow of sunrise. “I really do.”

They settled into chairs. “So ... have you enjoyed being a source of inspiration?” Sirius queried.

Remus nodded, a curl of mischief tugging at the corners of his eyes. “Yes, it’s been lovely Sirius. The nicest compliment I think I’ve ever been paid – and that’s saying something, going by what some students have said to me.”

“You’re just hot property, Mr Lupin,” Sirius quipped.

Remus’ answering smile was sad. “Maybe. I’m going to miss you, Sirius.”

Flabbergasted, Sirius choked on his tea, coughing violently. Remus watched him impassively. Finally, Sirius managed to croak, “What? Seemed more like I’ve been putting you through hell!”

Remus’ miserable smile stretched a little wider. “It has been a kind of hell, Sirius, but not in the way you imagine. I’ve enjoyed ... your company.”

Sirius stared, suddenly wondering if he’d misinterpreted the cause of Remus’ bad attitude. It seemed very unlikely – but if Remus was finally warming up to him then Sirius wasn’t going to miss his chance. “We _could_ keep on afterwards – get to know each other?”

 Remus squirmed uncomfortably. “Ah, Sirius...”

 _Oh for fuck..._ Sirius shrugged unconcerned shoulders, but his disappointment crept into his voice instead. “Just an idea.”

Remus pursed his lips, staring into his cup with shadowed eyes. An odd vulnerability stained the air around him. “Look ... it’s just not great timing.”

Sirius raised derisive eyebrows. “You can just say no. It’s fine.”

Remus gulped his tea, obviously stalling. Then he said evenly, “I don’t want to, though.”

Sirius’ temper spiked. _Don’t give me the run around, wanker_. “You’re talking in circles, Remus,” he snapped.

Remus actually laughed, but it was marred by self-deprecation. “I’m just trying to explain this to you – Sirius, I’d love to keep seeing you, but ... when we met I was having a bit of a rough time. I don’t want that colouring anything we might try for – unless I’ve misunderstood what you’re suggesting?”

Sirius huffed, eyeing Remus. His words were clipped. “I’d like to preface this by saying that I had no expectations when I asked you to pose for me. Yet despite your distinctive bad-manners, Remus – no, you have not misunderstood.”

Remus’ brow gave a sardonic twist. “I clearly wasn’t rude enough.”

Sirius blinked, mind fizzy with surprise. “Were you _actively_ _trying_ to make me dislike you?”

Remus shrugged, offhand. “A bit.”

“Why on earth would you want me to not like you?” Sirius asked, brow pulling tight in bemusement.

Remus fidgeted, obvious discomfort breaking through his armour. A moment’s hesitation, then he forced the words out. “Because it would’ve been easier for me not to like you.”

 _What the fuck?_   “Well ... I thought you didn’t, if that makes a difference.”

Remus snorted. “It doesn’t.”

“Remus, just _say_ whatever it is, for god’s sake!” Sirius barked.

Remus rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Fuck, Sirius ... I’d like to accept the offer you want to make. I just don’t know that it’s best to.”

Sirius’ gut wrenched – this was worse than saying nothing and just letting Remus walk away. He lowered a brooding glare at Remus. “Care to explain _why_?” he growled.

Remus’ body was wound tight but he met Sirius’ eyes calmly. “When we met I had some ... unpleasantness to deal with. That still smarts a little bit and I’m concerned that it would be too much to put on you.”

Sirius stared at him. _He’s too calm_. “Can I ask..?”

“No.”

“Okay...” Sirius put his cup down. He swept a gaze over Remus, noting his poorly-veiled anxiety. “So why are you telling me this? Are you shutting me down?”

Remus met his eyes with an agonised stare. “I don’t want to miss my chance with you, Sirius. But I’m just not sure if I can do this yet.”

Sirius’ heart leapt into his throat. The ambiguity was infuriating but things were finally starting to make sense. He let his breath out on a frustrated sigh. “Look, Remus ... let’s put a pin in this until next week. You know where I stand – why not think things over and come back on Tuesday with an answer.”

Sirius couldn’t read the emotions flickering across Remus’ face. He took a slow, deliberate breath and gulped down his tea, passing Sirius the empty mug. “Okay Sirius. I’ll see you next week.”

l-l

Sirius spent another week in busy distraction. In the evenings he sat at his easel and painstakingly etched in Remus’ expression of free-spirited abandon.

In between commissions, finances and bookwork Sirius pondered Remus’ vague secret, finding himself staring into space with the end of a paintbrush clamped between his teeth. A deep unease curdled in his gut – he found that he wasn’t prepared to accept the answers offering themselves.

Tuesday evening found him restless, stomping around the studio irritably.

Remus arrived with a mild smile. “Good evening, Sirius,” he said pleasantly.

Sirius’ stomach dropped out. _What does that mean? How can he be so damn calm?_ He glared at Remus who stared back, eyes gleaming mischief.

Off guard, Sirius blustered. “Uhm ... hi. Well. We’re just about done – I’ll get you to pose so I can check out what needs finishing.”

It was a short session. Sirius worked intently, his concentration fully on the canvas until finally he stepped back. He glared at the picture with severe self-criticism then murmured, “Yes.”

Remus’ eyes flicked towards him. “Is it done?”

“Yes,” Sirius repeated, laying down his brushes and wiping his hands on a scrappy cloth. “Would you like to see?”

“Fine,” Remus muttered, sliding elegantly across the room and stopping beside Sirius. Sirius’ breath strangled at the back of his throat – Remus was _close_ , unexpectedly so; Sirius could smell his cologne.

He turned towards Remus slightly and heard his breath hitch as well – whether it was due to their proximity or the sight of the finished painting Sirius couldn’t tell.

Colour rose surprisingly in Remus’ cheeks. “I didn’t expect my face to make such a difference to it,” he murmured. “How on earth did you manage this in a week?”

With a smug grin, Sirius replied, “It’s what I do.”

Remus stared in disbelief, head tipping to one side. “Photographs of me don’t look like this. You’ve embellished it.”

“Not at all,” Sirius said. “I’m a warts-and-all artist. This is how you look when you dance, Remus.”

Remus’ face soured. “Perhaps.”

“Well,” Sirius frowned lightly, “perhaps one day you’ll see yourself like this.”

Remus snapped a rigid glare at him. “I see myself fine,” he said coolly.

Sirius flicked his eyebrows but ignored it. Patrons often had intense reactions to his finished works, though he had not expected to see Remus’ regimented emotions stumble. “Tea?” he offered.

Remus nodded, but still seemed distracted by the portrait when Sirius handed him a cup a few minutes later. “It really is all you,” he said into the silence.

Remus started, glancing at him. “I just ... I didn’t expect something so ... good,” he said lamely.

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

“No, it’s ... Sirius – you know that’s not _me_ , right?”

Sirius frowned, perplexed. _What the hell is he getting at?_ “Yes, it is. It’s you when you dance, and you dance beautifully... If you’re trying to ask me something Remus then just fucking _ask_ it.”

Remus’ face was stormy. “Fine. I want to make sure you didn’t ask me out because you think I’m _this_.” He gestured at the canvas.

Sirius nearly laughed – only the expression on Remus’ face stopped him. “Remus, it’s just a picture. I know there’s more to you than this. Do you think I’m only interested in you because you look good? Look, man – you’re not perfect. In fact you’re a bit of an arse. And I’m still keen.”

Remus didn’t seem able to reply.

Sirius edged slightly closer. “Remus ... I think you must know what you want here. Just tell me what it is.”

Remus watched him evenly then took a slow breath. “I want to say yes to you, Sirius.”

 “ _Then say yes_.” Sirius’ words were a heartfelt ache. Biting his lip, he took a chance – Remus shivered as he looped their hands together. “We can get to know each other properly, outside of these four walls ... have dinner with me? As soon as you’re free. _Say yes_ , Remus.”

Remus considered him. In a would-be flippant tone he suggested, “Friday?”

Sirius grinned, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles on the back of Remus’ hand. “Friday works. So – what do you say, Remus?”

With a slow, golden smile Remus said, “Yes.”

l-l

Remus offered to pick Sirius up for their date. He agreed, sensing Remus’ vulnerability drove a need for control. On Friday he paced up and down his hallway, restive as he waited for Remus to arrive. When the bell rang Sirius had to force himself not to fling the door open immediately.

He had expected Remus to be a little nervous, but having made the decision to go out with him seemed to have finally relaxed him. Sirius was astonished when Remus greeted him with a cautious hug, their bodies pressing lightly. _Holy fuck, he feels great._

Remus took him to a small bar with live music. “Do you dance here, then?” Sirius asked, plucking a chip from Remus’ plate.

“Nah,” Remus smiled. He dropped his chin to his hand, looking at Sirius with soft eyes. “This is my hideaway. I almost never meet someone I know here. Actually, I never even bring people here.” Remus blinked, clearly surprised at himself.

Sirius shifted. “Except on first dates, huh?”

Remus smiled enigmatically. “No. Well, maybe – it’s been a while since I dated.”

“Why’s that?” Sirius asked without agenda.

Remus reacted unexpectedly, his gentle smile hardening across his face. Without moving he still seemed to withdraw – and then the shaded expression eased and Remus murmured, “I haven’t been inclined to date.”

Sirius smiled, gratified. “I’m glad you’re on this one.”

 “So am I.” Remus’ fingers were twitching a hesitant skitter across the bar table, then to Sirius’ delighted surprise they slid over the back of his hand and settled gingerly. Sirius licked his lips, twining his fingers gently with Remus’.

“You know,” Remus said, “I really didn’t expect to like you.”

Sirius flicked an amused eyebrow. “When I am so very likeable?”

Remus smirked. “I didn’t _want_ to like you.”

“I’m still not sure why you even agreed to sit for me.” Sirius gave Remus’ hand an experimental squeeze.

“You had a surprisingly effective way of convincing me,” Remus murmured.

He grinned. “It was my arse, right?”

Remus rolled his eyes but he was grinning too. “Right, Sirius. It was your arse.”

“I knew it,” Sirius said. “Yours isn’t bad either, y’know.”

Remus’ smile was unreadable. “I know,” he agreed softly.

Suddenly, Sirius recognised the song the band was playing. “Hey – you dance to this track, yeah?”

Remus canted his head, listening. “Hm, yes. But I’m not going to give these people a free show if that’s what you’re about to suggest.”

“It wasn’t. I intend to keep you all to myself.” Sirius smiled.

Remus’ brow drew inwards, his hand twitched in Sirius’. _Did I say something wrong?_

Whatever it was, Remus seemed to put it aside quickly. He grinned. “D’you know, watching you work was kinda fantastic. And knowing that ... passion was inspired by my dancing ... that was a lovely way to feel.”

Their eyes met and held; Sirius puzzled at the lingering trace of vulnerability that pooled in Remus’ amber gaze. He raised a hand towards Remus face – pausing when the latter drew back slightly. Sirius waited until Remus eased again, moving much more slowly ... a gentle scrape of fingers across sharp cheekbone, angled jaw. Sirius slid his hand in a tender curve around Remus’ neck.

Remus stared at him, eyes dark and wary. He sucked in a tenuous breath and tipped his chin up slightly – and Sirius kissed him, lip pressing to soft lip.

Remus was brittle under his touch, consenting but too reserved. Sirius broke the kiss but deliberately kept his body close to Remus'.

He bit his lip, scanning Remus’ startled eyes carefully. Remus’ heart was pounding so hard that Sirius could actually feel its reverb against his chest. His own heart gave a distressed twist. _I’m never right about anything. Why the fuck did I have to be right this time?_

“Don’t run away,” Sirius said, his voice nearly lost under the pub band. “We can do this at your pace. I just want a chance.”

Remus gripped Sirius’ hand, white knuckles bruising into him. His breath was an erratic shiver but he smiled – shaky yet genuine. “I want this chance too.”

l-l

“First time you’ve been in my house without it being strictly business!” Sirius cried when Remus arrived.

It was another Tuesday night. Over the past fortnight the pair had been out three more times and Sirius was pleasantly surprised to find that in a great many ways Remus had become more secure around him.

Remus flicked him an amused glance as he stepped inside, shrugging his coat into Sirius’ hands. “Thanks.” Sirius swooped him into a hug, running his tongue along the edge of Remus’ ear. Remus laughed. “None of that! I’m here for that game of chess you promised me a month ago.”

“As long as you’re ready to lose,” Sirius bragged, giving Remus a final squeeze before leading him through to the drawing room.

“I’m used to losing. I really do play very poorly.”

“How was work?” Sirius asked as he gestured Remus into a seat.

A shrug. “Lectures. Debates. Got chatted up. How was your client?”

Sirius grinned slyly. “I got chatted up too. I used your hit-man line.”

Remus’ jolted, surprised. “Really?”

“No, of course not really!” Sirius laughed. “I’d never get another commission. But isn’t it nice to know that we’re both so desirable?”

“Sure,” Remus said, deadpan. “Right then ... I came here to have my arse beat at chess. Ready to show off your skills?”

“Always,” Sirius beamed.

Remus had not been falsely modest – he really was a poor player. Sirius had enormous fun watching him try, until on their third game Remus knocked down his own king and retreated to the couch. “I’ve been humiliated enough for one night, I think.”

Sirius stared at him bleakly. It was getting late. “Are you leaving then?”

A flash of hurt surprise warped Remus’ features. “Do you want me to?”

Sirius shook his head emphatically, hair bouncing loose around his neck. “Not remotely! I’d be quite happy for you to stay all night.”

Remus’ eyebrows hiked up, a cheeky grin pulling at his lips. “Is that so? How presumptuous of you.”

“No – I ... fuck, Remus I didn’t mean it like that.” Sirius scrubbed a hand through his hair, embarrassed heat sliding up his neck.

“Hm, good. I’m not that kind of boy, Sirius,” he said, but his eyes sparkled naughtily.

“Too bad,” Sirius said. “Well ... shall I get us a drink or something then?”

“Wine sounds good,” Remus agreed. When Sirius returned he asked, “How’d you get so good at chess, then?”

“I used to play with my brother,” Sirius said, annoyed at the unchecked resentment in his tone. “Before I fell out with my family.”

Remus paused. “Do you miss them?”

Sirius shrugged, passing Remus a glass. “Sometimes – my brother mostly, but he moved away. Our contact is pretty strained. I think my parents would like to pass the title to him rather than me ... but things don’t work that way, do they?” His voice curdled.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Remus said evenly, sipping his wine.

“No, it’s fine,” Sirius said, settling beside him. “It’s old news really. Just ... still stings a bit.”

Remus’ smile cracked. “Some things do,” he agreed.

“Y’know ... if you want to talk about it – I’m here. I’ll listen.”

“I don’t want to,” Remus said, giving him a very direct look. He had never asked Sirius what it was that he thought he knew.

“Okay. That’s okay too...” Sirius reached out absently and brushed a curl away from Remus’ cheek. “You know ... you’re damned sexy.”

“I’ve been told,” Remus agreed. He leaned in, fixing his lips to Sirius’ in a burning, loaded kiss. He whined delightfully and dragged Remus closer. Their mouths moved smoothly together, drinking a shared warmth. Remus’ hand wound into Sirius’ hair and pulled him in.

The underlying panic of their first kiss had long passed – Remus now touched him with a fire that left Sirius lightheaded. Remus was a man filled with unchartered passions and Sirius wanted to map them all.

Breaking the kiss he mumbled, “Kissing you is like watching you dance.” He rubbed his nose against Remus’ stubble.

Remus laughed, bemused. “Okay then. What does that mean?”

Sirius tracked his mouth along Remus’ neck. “You’re ... molten. Like lava. Like liquid gold. A pure, natural _heat_.”

Remus tensed against him, but this wasn’t anxiety. He gave a shaky sigh and pressed his mouth to the hinge of Sirius’ jaw. “Gods... Why do you do this to me?”

Sirius’ mouth curved, pressing a smug pattern along Remus’ throat. “Do what?”

Remus’ voice was husky, covetous. “Make it so damn hard for me to hold back.”

Sirius chuckled. “Well, I’m just selfish. I don’t _want_ you to hold back.”

“I’m sure,” Remus said, unsteady mischief edging his words. He made a small noise and turned to catch Sirius’ lips again.

For the first time, Sirius felt Remus’ skittishness completely evaporate. His fingers bit into Sirius’ shoulders, dragging him closer; Sirius went willingly, a spike of lust prickling him when Remus moaned.

Sirius’ hands smoothed over Remus’ shapes – the sharp muscles of his arms, down over the ripple of his abs, pressing firm through Remus’ loose clothing to trace his hard angles.

His fingers brushed the waistband of Remus’ jeans; Sirius groaned when Remus arched against him, hungry hands scraping down his back to jerk his hips roughly forwards.

“Fuck,” Sirius mumbled into Remus’ mouth. He fumbled at fly buttons, one hand sliding a possessive track down Remus’ thigh -– and with a sudden yelp Remus forced him back.

Sirius gasped, but kept himself under control, seeking Remus’ eyes. They were wide and wary, filled with sudden stress. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “Not tonight, Sirius.”

Sirius wriggled back a little, soothing his hands across Remus’ chest. Sounding much calmer than he felt, Sirius said, “You’re not about to run off on me again, are you?”

It surprised a shaky laugh from Remus. “No, Sirius, I’m not.”

l-l

Remus was an instant hit with Sirius’ friends. James and Lily had them around for dinner. Peter and Gideon met them for drinks. Fabian and Caradoc came backstage at The Horcrux Club one night.

Sirius was horrified when Fabian leapt straight onto Remus and wrenched him into a bear-hug. Remus wasn’t just shocked – he was petrified.

Caradoc pulled his husband back, but neither of them seemed to have noticed Remus’ sudden panic. In one swift moment he reverted to the brusque, impatient man Sirius had first met.

“Sorry,” Fabian grinned, rubbing a sheepish hand around his neck. “Didn’t mean to startle you ... just – we’re big fans.”

“He hugs everybody,” Caradoc said, rolling his eyes and offering Remus a handshake.

He hesitated before jutting his own stiff hand forward. Through gritted teeth he said, “I see. So you’re ... you’re good friends of Sirius’ are you?”

“The best,” Fabian beamed, ignoring Remus’ defensiveness. “Anyway, we’re heading out for a drink. Wanna join us?”

“Another night,” Sirius said forcefully, stepping in before Remus could spit some rejoinder. “We’ve already got plans.”

Fabian twitched a flirty eyebrow. “I would have too. G’night then lads. Remus – we’ll see you soon, I hope.”

As soon as they were gone Remus turned away, bracing his hands on the back of a chair. “Holy _fuck_. You could’ve warned me!”

Sirius moved close, keeping a careful distance for Remus’ sake. He kept his voice low and soothing. “I honestly had no idea Fabian would launch at you like that – I would have stopped him. He’s just an over-friendly idiot, he ... he doesn’t mean anything by it, I promise you.”

Remus was breathing steadily through his nose but his white knuckles gave away his distress. In a scrappy voice he muttered, “I know ... I’m not blaming you. I just ... don’t like people grabbing me.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” It was inadequate but it was all that he had.

“Can we leave now?” Remus asked abruptly, glancing at him.

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “D’you want me to drop you home?”

Remus laughed but it was harsh and humourless. “My car is at your house, idiot. Pass me my jacket, would you?”

Sirius’ motorbike did not make for conversation during travel, but by the time they arrived at Sirius’ house Remus appeared considerably calmer. They stood in the driveway. “Are you heading home, then?” Sirius asked striving for a normal tone.

“Um ... I’d rather stay a little, if that’s okay.”

Sirius smiled, reaching gently for Remus’ hand. “Of course it’s okay. C’mon, let’s get a fucking drink.”

Remus folded himself into Sirius’ couch, hiding behind curled-up knees. He looked swamped by his favourite jumper, offering Sirius a twisted smile as he accepted a glass of whisky. “Hey, look...” he mumbled. “I’m sorry about overreacting back there. I just wasn’t prepared for ... that level of enthusiasm.”

“You don’t need to apologise, Fabian was outta line. Guy’s seriously gotta learn some boundaries.”

Remus’ mouth twitched. Silence fell between them for a moment then Remus spoke again, astonishing Sirius with his words: “Most of the time I’m absolutely okay, you know. I’ve worked through ... the stuff. When we met I was finally getting to an okay place. But sometimes ... one tiny thing can be enough to push me right back into the dark.” He met Sirius’ eyes, sharp and intense. Bluntly, he asked, “Are we doing this, Sirius? Being a thing, I mean. Or do you want to forget it?”

 _God, I’m so not good at being the reasonable one._ “Remus,” Sirius licked his lips and reached out, hooking a hand around Remus’ bent knees. “People have histories, all right? Don’t discredit either of us by acting as though my mate being a dickhead is a reason to stop seeing each other.”

Remus shook his hair back, breathing a sigh of relief. “Right. Okay. Good.” He gave a shaky smile and pulled Sirius into a kiss, fingers twisting through his hair. Remus’ touch was different in subtle ways and Sirius surged against him, struggling to get around Remus’ knees to snog him properly.

Getting nowhere, Sirius pulled back and squinted at Remus. He curved a finger down Remus’ cheek then in a gravelly voice he grumbled, “You know that if any other guy had jumped at you like that I would’ve knocked him to the ground, right?”

Remus’ arched an eyebrow, gracing him with a wholly amused smile. “You’re adorable. But I don’t need you to protect me, you know.”

Sirius shrugged, squeezing Remus’ knee. “I know. Doesn’t mean I won’t though. Remus...” Sirius paused.

“Stop talking,” Remus growled suddenly. He hooked his knees sideways and wrenched Sirius against him again, kissing him with passionate thoroughness. His hands skittered across Sirius’ body, icy fingertips dipping beneath the hem of his shirt.

Sirius quaked, jerking back. “Fuck, Remus.”

“Mm,” Remus murmured, clearly not listening. His mouth scraped across Sirius’ jaw, tracing a hot, heady path across his skin. Sirius moaned as Remus pushed him down and pressed him into the couch.

Remus’ kisses became painfully slow. Sirius’ head rolled sideways, a silent beg for more as Remus sucked a gentle track along his neck. His touch was hot and hard, an unhurried trail down Sirius’ body. Remus plucked his buttons open one by one, a scrape of teeth across the arch of his collarbone, mouth creeping steadily lower...

“Remus...”

“Mm.”

“ _Ah_ , Remus..!”

“Yeah?” Remus’ tongue slid burning wet across Sirius’ belly. He clearly wasn’t fully listening, distracted hands curling around Sirius’ belt. Sirius gave his hair a gentle tug and finally Remus glanced up, glimmering eyes catching Sirius’ gaze. A volt of pure lust pumped between Sirius’ legs.

He drew a shaky breath, feeling decidedly dishevelled. “Uhm ... uh, bedroom?”

Remus shrugged and raised himself a little. “Yeah, if you like.”

“Oh I very fucking like,” Sirius growled. He snatched Remus’ hand and hauled him to his feet, quickly wrapping his hands through Remus’ curls to pull him into a sloppy, blistering kiss before dragging him to the bedroom.

Remus shoved him onto the side of the bed, dropping to kneel between Sirius’ thighs. There was no hesitancy or nervousness about him now – this was a man in complete control.

Sirius was incredibly aroused.

Remus pressed a kiss to Sirius’ navel, one hand toying idly with his belt buckle. He smiled up at Sirius again, turning his fingers through the stripe of hair stretching up his belly. “Do you have..?”

“Er ... yeah,” Sirius croaked, stretching towards his nightstand to scrabble for a condom. Remus plucked it from his fingers and rocked back on his heels.

“Stand up,” he said softly, eyes locked on Sirius’. The hunger on Remus’ face shook him to the core, his penis throbbed expectantly. _Oh fuck this is going to be so good..._

Remus took his sweet goddamn time, humming cheekily as he undid Sirius’ belt and slid it free, flinging it across the room. He shifted his attention to Sirius’ flies.

“The hell are you doing?” Sirius grumbled impatiently.

Remus laughed. “You’ll find out when I get there,” he teased, slipping his fingers through belt loops and shimmying Sirius’ trousers down. His face was pressed against Sirius’ thigh, maddeningly close to his erection. He hadn’t stopped humming; Remus’ throat vibrated against his skin.

Carefully, Remus tore the condom open, mouth moving against Sirius’ leg. “Standing or sitting?” he whispered.

Sirius’ knees were already wobbling; he hooked his thumbs into his boxers and slipped them over his arse, sinking to the side of the bed.

Remus’ breath hitched as he snatched the satin waistband from Sirius’ fingers, tugging the boxers down and releasing Sirius’ cock. “... yum.”

“Fuck,” Sirius gasped, staring at Remus and licking his lips.

Remus pressed a hand to Sirius’ pelvis, steadying his erection. Then suddenly he bowed his head. In a swift movement Remus’ mouth was around his cock, rolling the condom on with his teeth, enveloping Sirius’ cock in slippery heat.

“Remus... _fuck._ ” Sirius’ hips jerked impulsively. He curled his fists in the blankets, whimpering as Remus’ lips rolled down his length, careful but quick, still humming vaguely. Sirius collapsed into the mattress and abandoned himself to pure sensation.

Remus had tricks that Sirius would never even have thought of. His hands and tongue moved with amazing skill, toying with him, dragging him to the point of orgasm and stopping for an infuriating moment before Remus slowly sucked Sirius down his throat again. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once; it felt _incredible_. Sirius fumbled at Remus’ hair, silently begging him not to pull away again. He glanced down; Remus was staring lustily up at him. With a panting whine Sirius came hard, his world fracturing in a dizzy of white fireworks.

“Gahhh ... fuck, Remus...” Sirius slumped into the bed, reaching out blindly.

“Wait just a minute,” Remus said, voice hoarse. Deftly, he slid the sheath off and slunk away to the bathroom. Sirius missed his warmth but a moment later Remus was back. He carefully swept a warm, damp cloth across Sirius’ skin.

Sirius shuffled onto his elbows. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re comfortable,” Remus replied carelessly.

Sirius grabbed him, hefting him onto the bed and rolling languidly across him. “Jesus, you are something else,” he mumbled, kissing away the smirk gracing Remus’ face. Murmuring, he slid his tongue across Remus’ lip, trailing a hand down his side.

Sirius pressed his palm down the ripple of abdominal muscles, across the plane of Remus’ hip and deftly popped the button of his jeans, fiddling the zipper down. He slipped his hand easily inside Remus’ loose jeans and, curling firm fingers around his cock, stroked him quickly to full hardness.

Remus thudded against the mattress, fingers biting into Sirius’ shoulder. “Oh god, Sirius...”

“Lube...” he mumbled, starting to roll away.

Remus grabbed his wrist. “No ... just ... don’t stop.”

Sirius grinned and kissed him, long and deep and languid. Remus’ nails scraped mindlessly at his shirt and Sirius leaned back a little, watching Remus’ expressions. He read Remus’ reaction to each stroke and twist –and when Remus arched into his touch, lips parted in a silent cry, Sirius hungrily watched him come undone.

“ _God..._ ” Remus groaned, pressing a fond hand into Sirius’ neck, urging him down and kissing him quick and sweet, then Remus slipped from under Sirius and slunk to the bathroom again.

Baffled, Sirius shook himself up and followed him.

Remus was cleaning up. “You okay?” Sirius asked, slipping an arm around his warmth. _Please, don’t shut me out now._

Remus glanced at him in the mirror. “Very.” He pressed his mouth to Sirius’ neck – and Sirius was horrified to see a sudden vulnerability flicker in his eyes. Straightening his clothes, Remus turned inside the loop of Sirius’ hug. “Are you?”

“Oh yeah,” Sirius said, leaning towards him with a grin.

Remus relaxed immediately but pressed his palm against Sirius’ chest. He laughed. “Wash your fucking hand you animal.”

Sirius flicked an eyebrow, risking a quick taste of fingertip to mouth. Remus watched him with scorching eyes. His breath was unsteady. “... I’m gonna go and, uh ... finish my drink.”

Sirius quickly freshened up and joined Remus in the drawing room. He was coiled up as usual, chin resting on his knees with a languorous smile playing about his lips. Sirius bent to press his mouth briefly against Remus’ knuckles. “Sure you’re okay?”

Remus blinked limpid eyes at him, plucking a lock of Sirius’ dark, silky hair and winding it through his fingers. “Yes. Fuck, I’ve wanted to touch you for such a long time.”

“Likewise.” Sirius hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking up to Remus’. “Will you stay the night?”

Remus gazed at him, twirling Sirius’ hair. He sighed. “No. Not tonight.”

Sirius’ heart dropped out of his chest. “Oh. Okay.”

Remus smoothed a hand down Sirius’ face. “You’ve got clients tomorrow and I have plans. But I can see you tomorrow night? If you like.” His voice was a hope-filled hush.

“Of course I like,” Sirius grinned. “Just ... promise me you’re not going to go home and have a panic attack right now.”

Remus actually laughed, ringing true and spontaneous. “Sirius, I think you’re far too concerned about me.”

“I’m not,” Sirius asserted stubbornly. “I’m concerned _just_ the right amount.”

Remus grinned, pulling him in for a kiss. “You’re an idiot is what you are.”

“I can be both,” Sirius smirked, falling into the press of Remus’ lips.

l-l

Sirius spent the next day in a fog of distracted bliss. His clients noticed his good mood but Sirius just wanted the sessions to be over and the evening to bring Remus.

Unable to settle, Sirius stopped working on his commissions and retreated to the kitchen to prepare something for supper. Even then he was distracted by insistent thoughts of tracking his tongue across Remus’ sinuous muscles to trace the lines of his glorious body in all its naked entirety. Most of all, Sirius was glad he’d have Remus with him all night.

Remus arrived with a bottle of wine and – Sirius noted happily – an overnight case.

 “So – good day?” Sirius asked as he took Remus’ things and led him into the kitchen.

“Pretty good.” Remus smiled a little. “Frank kept asking me what I was grinning about.”

“I know that feeling,” Sirius said, glancing at Remus from across the kitchen. “I missed you.”

Remus gave him a blank stare. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sirius snorted. “Tell me you didn’t miss me.”

“Course I missed you.” Remus said, all deadpan sarcasm.

After supper Sirius grabbed the bottle of wine and led Remus into the drawing room, flicking the stereo on. “Mm, I love this song,” Remus said, his shoulders rolling as a subtle snap coiled through his body.

Sirius swallowed. “Do you dance to this one?”

“I haven’t,” Remus said, a line appearing between his brows as he considered the music. Then he shrugged dismissively and turned to sit beside Sirius. Remus froze, fixing Sirius with a searching look. In an undefinable tone he asked, “Do you want me to?”

 _Yes, yes, fuck it!_ Sirius shrugged, trying to look flippant. “I do enjoy it.”

Remus appeared amused. “You saw me dance at the club last night.”

Sirius scowled. “Yeah, but ... that’s a very different type of dancing, isn’t it? Not like what you were doing for me.”

Remus’ gaze sharpened. The crease on his forehead deepened. “I _knew_ your interest at the festival wasn’t wholly professional.”

“Remus, you are obviously painfully aware that people are attracted to your dancing,” Sirius said gruffly. He glanced up, worried that Remus was offended.

But no - his eyes glowed with an intense predatory gleam. He stepped closer and placed his hands squarely on Sirius’ knees.

“Does it turn you on?” Remus breathed.

Sirius’ heart thudded against his sternum and all the blood in his brain rushed downwards. He couldn’t get away from Remus’ wild stare. “A bit,” he admitted. He tried to shrug the words off but his embarrassingly choked voice gave him away.

Remus’ grin curled with mischief. He leaned in slowly, tipping his mouth close to Sirius’ ear. “Would you like me to dance for you, Sirius?”

Sirius grabbed Remus’ hand and the latter took a teasing step back, staring at Sirius as he waited for an answer.  Not trusting his voice, Sirius nodded.

Remus moved fast. He slammed his music player into the stereo dock and dragged a chair from the chess table towards Sirius. “Sit,” he directed.

 _I’m already sitting, the fuck._ Sirius blinked, but moved without arguing.

Remus laughed, sudden and soft. “Pity about the jeans. Never mind...” he smiled at Sirius then started the music. Sirius sucked a breath – slow and sexy notes hummed into the room and his body tightened with anticipation as Remus pulled off both jumper and top, stretching out his body.

Sirius had never seen Remus move so slow and smooth. His belly swayed, amazingly controlled muscles rolling as he approached Sirius, spinning a fast circle around the chair.

Sirius was transfixed. His mind sputtered so badly that he wasn’t even prepared for what happened next.

Remus whirled in front of him again, hips rocking sharp from side to side before rolling forwards, smooth and sanguine. He dropped his arse towards Sirius’ lap, hovering a scant inch above him.

His brain screeched. “Jesus fuck, Remus...” he reached for slim hips and missed as Remus swayed back.

“No touching,” he muttered, sounding distracted. With a slight grin, Remus smoothed his hands down Sirius’ chest in slow tandem with the music. He arched sideways, back again, pelvis flicking a punctuation to hard notes. His hips rolled forwards, arse scraping along the front of Sirius’ jeans as his body arched powerfully backwards until he was stretched out almost flat across Sirius’ knees, body hard and inviting.

A noise escaped Sirius’ throat. He grabbed the edge of his chair so he wouldn’t grab Remus and fuck him into the floor.

Remus swung upright, pressing firmly into Sirius with well-timed, promising moves. Arching forwards, he slid his tongue up Sirius’ throat in perfect pace with an agonising lyric. Sirius moaned, craning towards him.

Remus hooked a foot onto the edge of Sirius’ seat and carefully kicked himself back to standing. He turned. His arse swayed, hips swinging a sharp slide and jerk. He stretched and flexed with purposeful seduction before slowly lowering himself backwards onto Sirius’ lap.

His restraint and strength was amazing. Sirius’ body dragged towards him, desperate for touch. Remus’ slid his hands over his own body; he dipped and rocked across Sirius’ lap.

The song went on for an eternity that was not at all long enough. As the notes strained away Sirius snapped an arm possessively around Remus’ waist.

“Moony...”

Remus ground temptingly against his cock. His voice was unsteady. “Yes, Sirius?”

“Will you fuck me?”

Remus’ head dropped back onto Sirius’ shoulder. “What if I say no?”

Sirius groaned his desperation, arching forcefully into Remus.

A shaky laugh: “Okay ... if that’s what you want.”

“Oh fuck yes, it’s what I want!”

“Bedroom then,” Remus puffed.

Remus was careful and attentive despite Sirius’ pulsing need. “Too _slow_ , Moony, fuck ... _now_ ,” Sirius grunted impatiently as Remus steadied him, a finger wriggling inside him carefully. Sirius thrust forwards, wincing slightly as his own eagerness sent an unwelcome zip of pain up his spine.

“Calm down, I’m not going anywhere,” Remus whispered, pressing a hand against Sirius’, stilling him as he eased in a second finger.

Sirius scrabbled at Remus, yanking him close for a heated, passionate kiss. Pulling back again, he gasped, “Gods, I don’t care Remus..!”

“You say that now but you’ll regret it after,” Remus groaned, drawing on some astonishing reserve.

“I don’t care!” Sirius snapped, throwing himself against the bed, arching his back.

“ _Fuck_...” Remus grabbed him, restraint finally snapping. He hauled Sirius down, hooking their bodies together. He paused then whispered, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yes...” Sirius groused before crying out as Remus pushed gradually inside him.

Remus fucked like he danced.

They surged frantically together, deeper, harder ... almost careless; it had taken too long to get to this point. Blood pounded in Sirius’ ears. Remus’ fingers were a bruising kiss against his skin, shimmering golden delight flowing from every point of contact.

Remus tilted his hips and Sirius yelped as his pleasure increased. He reached awkwardly between them, curling a tight and clumsy hand around his cock. He moaned; it all felt so fucking fantastic.

“Jesus...” Remus mumbled, fingernails flexing into Sirius’ thigh.

Hot pressure welled deep in Sirius’ loins. Remus met his eyes, hand scrabbling across his hip and wrapping around Sirius’, squeezing his cock. He keened. “Ungh, gods ... Moony...”

Remus pressed a kiss against his collarbone. His own breath was terribly strained. “Come on,” Remus groaned.

It was enough. Sirius gasped as orgasmic pleasure paralysed him, Remus’ hand tight around his own, stroking him to explosive release. Sirius panted, splaying against the mattress. Moving his hand from his penis, he twisted his slippery fingers with Remus’.

Remus’ forehead pressed painfully into Sirius’ clavicle. He started to pull out and Sirius grabbed him. “Keep going,” he breathed.

Remus shuddered. “Oh my god,” he groaned, then thrust into Sirius quickly; after only moments he arched back as orgasm dragged through him. Sirius gazed desirously at Remus’ fluttering eyelids, the flash of teeth as he breathed his climax to the dark air.

For a moment they curled together, tandem heartbeats rapping staccato against each other. “Christ...” Sirius mumbled.

“Mhm,” Remus agreed. He sighed, scrubbing his stubble across Sirius’ jaw. “Back in a minute, okay?”

“Okay,” Sirius agreed reluctantly. Fumbling at his bedside for some tissues, Sirius glanced around in sudden surprise; Remus had snatched up his jeans and tugged them quickly over his legs. “Why’re you getting dressed?”

Remus paused, silent.

“Moony..?” Concerned, Sirius reached a hand out, trailing gentle fingers down Remus’ side. He jerked back when he felt tension freeze Remus’ muscles. _Oh fuck, what did I do?_

Remus cleared his throat, turning to offer Sirius a strained smile. “Not just now, Padfoot,” he said, a slight edge in his voice. “I’ll be back in a moment, okay?” He loped towards the bathroom, undone trousers making a bid for freedom with each step.

The run of water echoed from the bathroom. After a moment’s hesitancy, Sirius scuttled out of bed and padded after Remus.

He was washing his hands, breathing carefully as he stared at the water coursing between his fingers. He didn’t notice Sirius until he turned to reach for a cloth. “Oh! I was just going to bring you this... What is it?”

Sirius smiled a thanks and took the cloth from Remus’ fingers. Quickly, he rinsed himself and then turned to Remus, tucking careful fingers into the waistband of Remus’ now-fastened jeans. “You don’t need to be embarrassed with me, y’know.” He forced his voice to stay neutral. “Why did you put these on? I wouldn’t have taken you for body-conscious.”

Remus’ face was wary and defensive. He snapped, “Because I dance half-naked you mean?”

Sirius coiled back, stung.

Dragging air into his lungs, Sirius forced himself to step closer, ignoring Remus’ uncomfortable shift as the space was breached. “Don’t do that to me,” he retorted. “Hey – forget about it just for now and let’s crawl back into bed, yeah? Let’s not spoil this.”

Remus wasn’t quite steady yet, his tense muscles tight as pulled rubber bands. Sirius waited, a silent stabilising force until Remus’ panic slowly released. He was shivering when he slipped between Sirius’ welcoming arms.

“Are you okay?” Sirius hummed into Remus’ hair after a minute.

“Mostly,” he mumbled.

Sirius paused, bit his lip. “Do you need me to put some clothes on?”

Remus’ hands tightened. “Please don’t,” he said, a trace of sly approval tinting his voice.

Sirius tugged Remus gently. “Come back to bed?”

“I’m just gonna get a glass of water,” he said. When Remus met Sirius in the bedroom a minute later he was in pyjama bottoms, carrying his overnight bag. Sirius’ face crumpled in concern.

Remus looked abashed and wouldn’t meet Sirius’ eyes, hiding behind his mop of curls. “... Can we talk about it in the morning?”

Sirius smiled but his apprehension increased. “Sure.”

He pulled Remus back into bed, curving a sedate hand up and down Remus’ side, laughing when Remus shivered, ticklish. Amongst idle chatter they fell into slumber, reconnected with the honeyed warmth of _after_.

l-l

Sirius really hadn’t expected Remus to be a cuddler but he woke to find a firm body curled delightfully tight around him. He hummed contentment and burrowed into Remus’ warmth.

“Don’t move,” Remus mumbled.

“Okay.”

Remus snuggled against him. “You smell awesome,” he yawned, snuffling Sirius’ hair. “What is that?”

“Rosemary,” Sirius answered vaguely. He smoothed his hand over the one Remus had pressed to his chest. He shifted slightly and his body gave him an aching reminder of his impatience the night before. “Ow...”

Remus nudged him. “Told you,” he said knowingly, a teasing smile in his voice.

“Worth it,” Sirius announced. He sighed, stirring. “Want some coffee?”

Remus huffed into Sirius’ hair. “Love some.”

Sirius wriggled and turned over, pressing a long, sweet good-morning kiss to Remus’ mouth. “Stay right here, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He heard Remus head into the bathroom but found him reclining against the pillows when he returned to the bed room. He had taken advantage of Sirius’ absence to change into his jeans. _What the fuck is he hiding?_

 Sirius fixed him with a hard stare. Remus met it stolidly. Setting the coffee mugs on the bedside table, Sirius perched on the edge of the bed next to Remus. His voice was more aggressive than he meant it to be. “What’s this about?”

Remus drew his knees in and swallowed hard. His voice was painfully bleak. “Okay ... I don’t want you to say anything, Sirius. Right? _Not one fucking word_.”

Dread dripped an icy trail through Sirius’ chest. “Okay...”

Remus turned to sit beside him and paused for a long moment. Finally he stood, looking resolutely away from Sirius. With visibly shaking hands, he wriggled his baggy denims down.

Sirius’ choked, reaching for Remus convulsively. “Moony...”

“Not one word, Sirius!” Remus snarled, reactively hoisting his jeans up again.

“Just wait a minute, would you?” Sirius snapped back, grabbing Remus’ waistband impulsively. _Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that!_ But Remus did not jerk away like Sirius expected. Breathing sharply, he trembled and allowed Sirius to carefully slide the fabric back down.

Sirius’ stomach lurched. Remus’ beautifully muscled legs were hatched with scars – thick ropes of damaged skin from shin to thigh. Fractured thoughts crowded through Sirius’ mind: _What the fuck ...that’s – he’s been ... whipped. Why the fuck-?_ _And ... some of these aren’t even that old..._ Sirius brushed his finger against an angry pink mark; Remus hissed.

Sirius pulled back. “Okay,” he muttered, moving his hand away. Trying to swallow the rage searing up his throat, Sirius thumped a hand against the mattress, inviting Remus to sit again.

Shrugging back into his jeans, Remus sat and blinked at Sirius with dark, nervous eyes.

Sirius’ temper blinded him; white fury spattering his vision. He ground his jaw as rage burned into his bloodstream. Unchecked words ripped from his throat in a venomous growl, “Give me his name and I’ll kill him for you.”

Remus shuddered, his voice a flat, cavernous echo. “Just drink your coffee, Sirius.”

“Fuck that!” Sirius snapped. “You expect me just to sit here when you-”

“Sirius, _shut up_ ,” Remus snarled in sudden fury. His eyes flashed dangerously. “You’re not helping!”

Sirius tried, but he couldn’t keep still. He jumped up, stamping around the bedroom in a restless pace, spitting muttered, angry words. “This is ... fucking. _Bastard_. People like this – mother _fucker_...” Remus watched him, expressionless. Sirius wheeled to face him, desperation snapping in his voice. “Tell me he’s in gaol. Tell me he’s dead.”

Remus’ glare was cold iron. “I’m not telling you anything. I’ve dealt with this Sirius. It’s done. It’s over. _Calm down_.”

“I don’t want to calm down!” he roared, reeling away from the nervous flicker in Remus’ eyes. It was several minutes before he managed to fight down the crushing red anger swamping him. “Sorry,” he snorted at length, facing Remus again. “I’m just ... somebody _did_ that to you!”

“Yeah.” Remus met Sirius’ temper with a sarcastic snap. “I know that.”

Sirius stared at him and Remus slowly crumbled, lowering his head and hiding behind a rain of curls. Still breathing roughly, Sirius sat next to him and pulled Remus into the security of his arms, a protective hand pressed to his head.

“Are you okay?” Remus grunted.

“ _Me_? Fuck me. Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah, more or less. I’ve gotten through it, though obviously there are times...” His voice filtered into flat misery. “You’re the first person I’ve let see them.”

Sirius squashed Remus against him, blinking down the furious stinging at the back of his eyes. “Oh, fuck...”

Remus’ voice muffled up from Sirius’ neck. “Padfoot, I appreciate your anger, but ... I don’t need to keep re-reading that chapter of my life. If the – if it weren’t so obvious, I wouldn’t have even said anything.”

Sirius stared blindly at the wall, forcing silent breaths through Remus’ hair.

l-l

“Padfoot, should you be telling me this?” James fixed him in an uncertain squint.

“I need to talk about it!” Sirius said forcefully, “Otherwise I’m gonna hurt someone. Remus says he’s done with it, but...”

“Well,” James put a cup of tea between Sirius’ hands, “maybe he is. People can go through really awful things and still recover.”

“I’m so _angry_ , Prongs!”

“I hear you,” James asserted, sitting beside him. “But you gotta remember that this happened before you even knew him. It’s actually healthy that he doesn’t want you to fix his problems.”

“How d’you figure that?” Sirius frowned. “I don’t _want_ him shutting me out.”

James rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I mean, paddlebrain. Just ... if Remus hadn’t already dealt with whatever is in his past, then you wouldn’t know if he was just using you as a – a bandage. But he’s meeting you as an equal. It means he’s dating you for the right reasons.”

Sirius sighed, frustrated. “You’re not actually making me feel better, Prongs.”

“There’s nothing that will make this better, Padfoot. I dunno, just ... vent. Put it on a canvas.”

Sirius arched a thoughtful eyebrow. “Not a bad idea... Hey, Prongs – you knew didn’t you?”

James shook his head, shaggy scruff of hair flopping in all directions. “I only suspected.”

Sirius’ eyed him “How could you even guess at something like that?”

James shrugged. “I know things. I’m really smart, Sirius.”

Sirius snort collapsed into a despondent huff. “Oh, I wish you’d been wrong.”

James squeezed reassurance into his shoulder. “So do I.”

l-l

Sirius hadn’t raised a brush for therapeutic purposes in a very long time. He was vaguely amazed at how good it felt to unleash his impotent fiery rage, pouring all of his disgust and lustful vengeance onto a canvas that he kept hidden away in his studio.

It helped him keep his temper in check as he slowly became accustomed to Remus’ distressing past. Remus had refused to go into any details and Sirius had not pressed him for them.

But Remus began to open up in other ways and after a few weeks he invited Sirius to his house for the first time.

He was ridiculously excited to see Remus in his home turf, especially when Remus answered his door-knock dressed only in yoga sweats and a sheen of glistening sweat. “Hey,” he grinned, pulling Sirius into a hug. _Goddammit he smells amazing_. “Come in.”

Sirius glanced around with blatant curiousity as he followed Remus to his drawing room. His typical oversized jumpers were strewn haphazardly over the furniture, books stacked the arms of a well-worn chesterfield. Otherwise the room was an empty space of well-maintained floorboards, evidently for Remus’ dancing.

Music was echoing around the room. “Were you practising?” Sirius asked.

Remus shook his head. “Just mucking about.”

“Mm.” Sirius smiled, slinking an arm around Remus and kissing him thoroughly. Sirius tracked a hand slowly down Remus’ delightfully naked back. “So can I talk you into dancing for me again? If you’re just mucking about.”

Remus folded his arms around Sirius. “Maybe I can convince you to dance _with_ me.”

“I don’t-”

“You’re the future Lord Black. Surely you’ve learned to dance.”

Sirius snorted. “Only useless Regency court dances.” He injected his voice with false-pomposity. “My parentals do not think it dignified for peers to touch immodestly in public.”

Remus swayed gently against him, smiling. “Not even the waltz?”

Sirius shook his head. “That’s worst one – nothing _but_ touching. So unseemly.” He grinned. “So naturally I got Lily to teach me.”

“Good. Now you can teach me.” Remus beamed and crushed Sirius against him. They whirled aimlessly around the room to the wrong music, talking and laughing as a gentle tension steadily grew. Sirius rested his chin on Remus’ shoulder and began sucking his neck. Remus gasped, pulling Sirius’ hips forward roughly.

Sirius hooked a foot around Remus’ ankle and toppled him, tangling heavily together against the floorboards.

“Hm. Well this is nice,” Sirius said. He rubbed his cock into Remus’ leg, scowling petulantly when Remus laughed.

“It’s okay,” he said flippantly. “Don’t you want to eat first, though?”

“Mm, I want to eat you,” Sirius said, curling his tongue along the edge of Remus’ ear.

“Is that right?” Remus said, voice beginning to shake slightly. “Actually, uh – I meant supper.”

“Will it keep?”

Remus nodded and shifted, body flexing. He caught the sudden glazed look appear in Sirius’ eyes and grinned, drumming his fingertips against his firm belly. “You alright there, Pads?”

“Stop using your delicious body against me,” Sirius growled, tongue darting across his lips.

“Okay, fine,” Remus murmured fairly. “I have something else that you might like to see.” He scrabbled away from Sirius and a moment later passed him his phone.

Sirius glanced at the screen and grinned. “Yeah?”

Remus shrugged. “Yeah. You get yours back yet?”

“Yeah, hold on,” Sirius said, glad that Remus had been so relaxed about safety checks.

A grin split Remus’ face. “Thank fuck. So ... wanna stop using them?”

“Oh gods yes... uhm...”

“Fucking ... c’mon then.” Remus snatched Sirius’ hand and steered him to the bedroom.

Remus’ bedroom was as haphazard and unstructured as the rest of the house. Various silks spilled from the confines of an open trunk. The wardrobe stood open, revealing various chains and beads all tidily organised with his costumes. The bed was neatly made but stacks of papers perched across its foot.

Remus scooped them up. “Essays for marking,” he said, answering Sirius’ unasked question. He rested critical hands on his hips as a crease appeared between his brows. “Y’know, you’d think I’d have bothered to tidy up a little knowing you were coming over.”

Sirius chuckled. “I like seeing you in your natural habitat,” he replied, looping an arm around Remus, flirty fingers toying with his waistband. “You’re usually so controlled, this is amazing.”

Remus slurred, “I’m just a hot mess, really.”

“Very hot,” Sirius agreed.

Remus’ mouth twitched. “Very messy.”

Sirius laughed, eyes roaming the room, absorbing everything. Leather handcuffs sat with Remus’ black dance wear. Sirius picked them up; Remus turned to see what he’d grabbed.

“Do you ever use these?” Sirius asked, voice husky.

“They’re a part of my act,” Remus shrugged. His eyes sparked brighter as he studied Sirius’ expression. “I ... do you want to? On – on me or you?”

Sirius stepped back, facing Remus frankly. He twisted the cuffs between his hands. “I wouldn’t mind you tying me up,” he murmured. “But only if you’re into it.”

Remus studied him. “You should have told me you like some kinky.”

Sirius’ mouth twisted. “I didn’t want to ... spook you.”

Remus laughed. “You have _seen_ my club act, right?”

“Oh fucking yes... But that’s work, right? Might not be something you want to do in bed.”

Remus’ eyes burned electric. He ran a thoughtful fingertip along the edge of Sirius’ jaw.

Sirius’ bit his lip. “So ... what do you think?”

Remus’ mouth tugged down, his fingers dribbling down Sirius’ throat. “What exactly do you want?” he asked, hand slipping ever lower – rib, belly, hip. Sirius whimpered. “A minute ago you would have been quite happy to fuck on the drawing room floor...” Remus’ hand pressed the front of Sirius’ trousers, palming his erection. He squeezed a seductive taunt, leaning close enough to whisper his breath against Sirius’ ear. “Are you sure you want to wait?”

Sirius twisted a hand into Remus’ hair, yanking him into a brief kiss. Then in a shaking voice he said, “Which one of us are you trying to convince?”

It surprised Remus into a laugh. He rubbed Sirius’ cock roughly. “I don’t think either of us needs convincing,” he murmured, the tease gone from his voice. “But would you be very disappointed if we didn’t tonight?”

Sirius shook his head vehemently; Remus was right, he did not want to play bedroom games right now. “No, let me assure you ... sex with you is _not_ disappointing.”

Remus’ mouth curved a pleased smiled, but his voice was a moonlit shiver. “So ... you want me to fuck you now, then?”

Sirius growled into Remus’ neck. “Yes, I want you to fuck me _right_ now...”

Remus laughed at him. “Okay, Padfoot.”

He pushed him back onto the bed, pulling Sirius’ clothes off gracelessly. The first touch of Remus’ mouth on Sirius’ bare flesh sent him writhing into the bed. Remus' tongue ran over his cock with a splintering, excruciating slowness. He seemed entirely absorbed in Sirius’ pleasure, sensual but teasing him, toying with him... The slow bliss was driving Sirius insane. He pulled Remus’ hair, too tight, thrashing through delicious fire as he cracked and shattered, coming into Remus’ mouth with a garbled yell.

Remus’ breath huffed against his thigh. Sirius reached through his orgasmic haze to scamper down the bed. He curled a fuzzy hand around Remus’ cock and collapsed between his thighs. For a moment he lay with his face pressed into Remus’ hip, waiting for his dizzy blood to pump back into his brain. Remus’ fingers tangled through his hair. Finally, Sirius dragged his lips across Remus’ burning skin and sucked the waiting erection hungrily into his mouth, moaning, relishing the taste... Remus whimpered, his hands snagged in Sirius’ hair.

Sirius tortuously pulled him apart.

Afterwards they curled against each other in the bed.

“This is rather comfortable,” Sirius mumbled, snuggling tighter against Remus’ chest and rubbing his thumb in vague circles across the arch of one hip. “Nice mattress.”

“S’for my back,” Remus mumbled, sleepiness curving his words. He yawned. “You’ve worn me out...”

Sirius grinned. “Yeah, but fuck was it worth it. I’m not going to apologise.”

“I’m not complaining,” Remus said, smoothing his fingers through Sirius’ hair and laughing as they snagged a knot. “You have sex hair.”

“Good,” Sirius grumbled, cringing. “Hey ... there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“What?” Remus asked, flinching suddenly as Sirius’ hand slid down his thigh.

“Let’s go have supper and I’ll tell you about it, yeah?”

With a sigh Remus shifted, turning to kiss Sirius leisurely. They clambered slowly out of bed and into pyjamas; Sirius’ stomach gave an unpleasant pull at the site of Remus' scars. They wandered to the kitchen and Remus threw their supper into the microwave.

“Well?” Remus asked a few minutes later, as he put a plate in front of Sirius.

Sirius hesitated. He said carefully, “My cousin’s asked me to put an exhibit together for her gallery.”

Remus smiled. “That’s great.”

“Thanks. But I wondered if maybe you’d consider posing for me again? So I can put you in the exhibit.”

A furrow appeared on Remus’ forehead. “What about the picture you have?”

Sirius slurped spaghetti into his mouth, ignoring the disgusted curl tugging the edge of Remus’ lip. “Well, if I’m being honest Remus ... I wouldn’t mind doing the entire series on you – with your fucking input this time. Just ... imagine what we could come up with together...”

“But ... why would you want to paint me again?” Remus sounded almost suspicious.

Sirius glared at him. “For fuck’s sake, Remus – because I’m obsessed with you, okay? Are you interested or not?”

Remus studied him, eyes intent as he considered Sirius’ request. “You want to do something together? Like uh ... an artistic collaboration?”

A wave of co-mingled relief and annoyance swept through Sirius. “Exactly.”

“We’ll be spending every Tuesday trapped in your studio again?”

“You’d be welcome to sleep over,” Sirius offered airily.

Remus chuckled. “Okay,” he said after another moment. “Okay, Sirius. I’d love to.”

Sirius grinned, stretching across the small table and sliding his mouth over Remus’ lips, dragging him into a deep, heady kiss.

Remus’ colour was a little high when Sirius drew back again. He twirled pasta absently around the tines of his fork then glanced up, expression flickering with apprehension. “Just ... why _not_ use the portrait you already did? Is ... is there something wrong with it?”

“No!” Sirius said, startled. _Does he not realise?_ “Moony, that portrait is _perfect_. But I didn’t paint that one to share – that picture is just for you and me. For our viewing pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> D'you know - I know every song Remus dances to in this fic. I'm nuts, istg.
> 
> Every move described is possible - I have the photographs to prove it. ;)
> 
> This really was so much fun to write, though it did my head in. I actually have favourite quotes for both Remus and Sirius - never had that about my own fics before. Anyway - hope you liked.


End file.
